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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442278">differential rotation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoonmims/pseuds/catgod'>catgod (yoonmims)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Astronomer Oikawa Tooru, Beach Volleyball, Brazil, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Time Skip, oikawa tooru gets Perceived by hinata shouyou and doesn't like it much, there's a tag for that???</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:54:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442278</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoonmims/pseuds/catgod</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru finds an alien on his university campus, falls in love with a boy who shines brighter than Omega Centauri, and submits himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known in order to be loved (mostly in that order).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rain Recs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>haha what's up if u follow me on twitter u know i haven't shut up about my astrophysics student oikawa fic, so here it finally is (chapter one at least!)</p><p>ngl i struggled a lot with writing this and im still not very content with it, but ah well! i write for fun and this was definitely fun to write! oikawa is like 90% self projection and 10% self projection fantasy because I Too wish to date brazil hinata, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! this is somewhat of an au, somewhat of a canon divergence where oikawa stops volleyball after middleschool and becomes an astronomy student instead, but canon is the same for hinata</p><p>big thanks to chloe for being the one to convince me to write this and suggest the original prompt idea, ily ;-;</p><p>now pls, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If you asked Oikawa Tooru whether he believed in aliens, the answer would be a resounding <em> yes. </em></p><p>As a child, he’d wasted hours watching films like ‘<em>ET’ </em>and ‘<em>Godzilla’ </em>and ‘<em>The Mysterians</em>’ over and over again, nights spent peering up at the sky through the child-sized telescope his parents had generously gifted him for his eighth birthday.</p><p>Whenever those western UFO investigation shows were on TV, he’d huddle on the sofa in his nest of blankets and watch them with wide eyes, jaw agape at the stories of mysterious white figures and unexplained flashing lights in the night sky. Iwaizumi would be right there beside him, loudly and confidently refuting every bit of evidence presented before them, insisting they put <em> ‘Godzilla’ </em>back on.</p><p>Growing older, he’d started to adopt a more sensible approach on the issue. Undoubtedly aliens were real, but with all that expanse of space and time stretching on endlessly, what were the chances of there being aliens here on Earth, now? He’d also learnt the hard way that telling girls you still believed in aliens at the age of fifteen was a surefire way to lose any credibility you might have had.</p><p>But ultimately the universe is big - so big that units of measurement like kilometres, lightyears and even parsecs aren’t enough to map out its scale; so long and unending that things like ‘seconds’ and ‘minutes’ and ‘hours’ lose their meaning when confronted with the enormity of hundreds of billions of years already past.</p><p>So, if questioned about the existence of aliens, Oikawa Tooru would probably go on a long, winding rant about the scale of the known universe and the infinite nature of time in respect to the probability of aliens existing at this point in space, in this infinitesimally small timeframe, culminating in the answer of: <em> they probably do exist, but I’ll probably never see one. </em>Followed by a cheesy pick-up line about the asker being ‘out of this world’ or something to that effect, because he’s nothing if not an incorrigible flirt.</p><p>All that said and done, Oikawa Tooru is convinced there is an alien on Earth, stalking him on his university campus.</p><p>The signs are there, the evidence is stacking up, and all that’s left is to make contact. He’s got a plan, and everything is going to work out perfectly. Tooru has confidence in his abilities.</p><p>Iwaizumi thinks he should stop day drinking.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>First contact happens when he’s on his way to a meeting in a building he’s never been in before, speed-walking through the corridors as the minute hand on his watch ticks closer and closer to marking him ‘late’. The scolding he’d received last time he was late had been so harsh it had even made Iwaizumi’s telling-offs seem like nothing more than a gentle slap on the wrist.</p><p>(It would seem that telling your supervisor that time is fake as an excuse for your lateness  <em> doesn’t </em> go over well, no matter how true the statement may be. He’ll have to keep note for future that ‘time dilation’ isn’t a valid excuse for arriving halfway through a meeting. And another note to stop staying up so late, hunched over his computer working.)</p><p>The corridor isn’t busy, since not many people have lectures this early on in the morning, and even fewer of them turn up if they can get away with it. Even after years of rising early, being focused and attentive this early on is a chore for Tooru, and he’d forgotten to put his contacts on this morning before leaving his apartment.</p><p>Pale sunlight filters in through the windows that line one side of the corridor, weak yellow on the wooden floors. Even this early, the air is still warm, setting up to be yet another sweltering day. Up ahead, there’s a colourful blur of people, walking together and laughing in rapid Portuguese that Tooru just barely understands the basics of.</p><p>That’s when it happens.</p><p>In his peripheral vision, brushing past him at such a speed that he blinks and it’s gone. Bright orange, glowing golden like the sun. A warmth that burrows itself deep inside the chasm of his chest and settles there, burning hot even hours after the mysterious light has passed.</p><p>When Oikawa turns back to peer down the corridor, there’s nothing. Not even a hint of orange. Even without his glasses on, he should have seen someone approaching, and seen their back as they passed him by. Yet the corridor is empty.</p><p>He dismisses it as irrelevant, nothing more than a bizarre optical illusion. A flash of early morning sunlight through the dirty windows of the building.</p><p>Perhaps if it had happened just that once he could have brushed it off as a heat flush, a spot of light in his vision brought on by dehydration and exhaustion and the stress of settling into a new city.</p><p>But then he sees it again, and again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><b>ME</b>: hey so i think there’s an alien at my university<br/>
<b>IWA CHAN</b>: shut the fuck up<br/>
<b>IWA CHAN</b>: if u win a nobel prize or smthn for discovering alien life share ur prize money with me.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>[<span class="u"> <em> Research Log - Tooru Oikawa - Date XXXX-XX-XX </em> </span>]</p><p>Pros of alien life existing:</p>
<ul>
<li>Aliens are cool</li>
<li>If they are technically advanced we can learn cool new things from them</li>
<li>Aliens are cool</li>
</ul><p>Cons of alien life existing:</p>
<ul>
<li>People might try and fuck the aliens</li>
<li>If they want to kill us with their planet destroying lasers we’re done for</li>
<li>???? there are no cons aliens are cool</li>
</ul><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After that first time, he sees the orange alien all over campus, always at the edge of his vision, never able to get a good look. It’s always accompanied with that warmth, like the first rays of sun after a rainstorm clears. Gone before he can get a glimpse of it, a bird flitting away at the first hint of danger.</p><p>In the hallways, in the cafe, in the dining hall.</p><p>Several times he thinks he catches a proper look at it, but it’s always something else. Someone with ginger hair that’s more red-brown than amber gold, or a bright orange sun hat that’s <em> almost </em> the right shade. Tooru finds himself staring at anything orange with an intensity that he didn’t hold before, almost glaring every time it’s <em> wrong </em>.</p><p>Ultimately they’re all false alarms, and Tooru begins to suspect that perhaps Iwaizumi is right. Not that he’d ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that.</p><p>The next encounter comes when he’s stressed and sleep-deprived, hair greasy and flat from days of single-minded focus on his work. He’s inside the library, squinting at his laptop screen as he jams the enter key repeatedly. At the next table over, a group of younger students are giving him suspicious looks as he mutters obscenities in Japanese to his computer.</p><p>“Piece of shit,” he says, furiously typing away. “Absolute garbage of a machine. Why. Won’t. You. Just. Compile?” He punctuates every word with another jab at the enter key, letting out a growl of frustration. Still it doesn’t comply. This is what it means to be a student, and Tooru hates it. </p><p>Tooru deflates, leaning down to rest his head against the keyboard. <em> Life is cruel and meaningless, </em> he thinks. <em> Do we even need physics, truly? I’m sure we could survive without it. Nuclear fusion isn’t even </em> that <em> important to our existence. </em> His glasses are slipping off his face, skewed to one side so half of his vision is in HD and the other is a blurry mess of colours. The students are probably shooting him more concerned looks, but he can’t bring himself to care.</p><p>(Not that much anyway. He only cares a little bit. He’s not that vain. Fuck, one of them looked his way again, this is so embarrassing. His hair looks like rat tails right now, and there’s a spot threatening to erupt on his chin.  Perhaps he does care more than he cares to admit. He can already hear Iwaizumi’s voice calling him <em> vain little Shittykawa </em>in the back of his head.)</p><p>A blur of orange against the backdrop of muted greys and browns of the library catches his attention, and his eyes snap up to see it. There it is again, that alien orange. Fire-bright and glowing, there’s a halo of gold around it that brightens up the surroundings. </p><p>Tooru struggles to sit upright, pulling himself up and frantically trying to straighten his glasses so he can get a better look, but it’s gone already. Just like last time, as quick as it came, with no sign it was ever there. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands over his eyes beneath the lenses of the glass. Perhaps he’s just not getting enough sleep, like Iwaizumi said, if he’s starting to see things now. The bags under his eyes are probably designer at this point.</p><p>A beeping from his laptop draws his gaze down again. Line after line of keysmash sits in the middle of his program, disrupting the blocks of perfectly formatted and commented code with nonsensical rubbish. Somehow, during his accidental face-typing, he’d pressed the enter key once more, and the whole program crashed itself trying to compile. With one last whirring noise, the screen blacks out and everything goes quiet.</p><p>Tooru lets himself slump back down onto the laptop. The indentation of keys on his cheek smarts. <em> This is not my day </em>.</p><p>But there’s light at the end of the tunnel; evidence of extraterrestrial life found, not at the edges of the rapidly expanding known universe, but here on Earth, in Brazil.</p><p>“I’m telling you,” he tells Iwaizumi over the phone later that evening, “it’s an alien, I’m sure of it.”</p><p>“I’m sure that you’re being ridiculous,” Iwaizumi mumbles back, masked by an exasperated sigh. In the background of the call, Tooru can hear the sound of loud, American-accented voices. It’s still early afternoon in Irvine, Iwaizumi must be out socialising. <em> Making new friends, </em>Tooru muses, thoughts tinged with only the slightest hint of bitterness. Growing up means growing apart, much as he’d like to deny it. “Are you sure you haven’t hit your head on a big rock, crappy Oikawa?”</p><p>He whines in response to Iwaizumi’s insult, flopping back onto his unmade bed and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars hanging from his ceiling fan. “You just don’t understand, Iwa-chan. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”</p><p>“What is it you’ve seen?”</p><p>Tooru flounders. “... It’s hard to put into words <em> exactly </em>what I’ve seen…”</p><p>Iwaizumi hangs up.</p><p>The stars hanging from his ceiling glow orange, illuminated by the beams of a passing car's headlights.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>[<span class="u"> <em> Research Log -  Tooru Oikawa - Date XXXX-XX-XX </em> </span>]</p><p>I think I found the Sun, and it’s not 152.1 million kilometres away from Earth like it’s supposed to be. Interesting to see what the implications of this are regarding the inevitable heat death of our planet.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Despite being a top student with an impeccable work ethic, undertaking a masters in a country half way across the world that he doesn’t speak the language of is a challenge. Combine that with a drive for perfection motivated by crippling self esteem issues and an inferiority complex the size of UY Scuti, and you get Oikawa Tooru. Between the workload, the culture differences and the language barrier, some days it’s all he can do to turn up where he needs to be before heading home to watch Buzzfeed Unsolved videos and text Iwaizumi Area 51 memes while ignoring the feeling of homesickness that sits like lead in his stomach.</p><p>Occasionally he’ll catch a glimpse of <em> the underclassman who shall not be named </em> on TV, playing volleyball for Japan’s national team, and pure spite and jealousy is enough to power him through the week and into the next, pushing himself to the limit to be the best he can be, because if he can’t beat him on the court he’ll sure as fuck beat him in this.</p><p>(Not that there’s much of a competition, volleyball and astrophysics are only related insomuch that they both involve rotating spheres rocketing through space and time.)</p><p>Needless to say, he hasn’t set foot on the beach in the two months he’s been in Brazil so far (which is frankly shameful). The sand is soft and burning hot underfoot, having been cooked in the sweltering heat of the sun all day long, and all around the beach is packed. People are sunbathing, tossing balls around, drying off after a plunge into the Atlantic.</p><p><em> This is Rio </em>, he reminds himself as he weaves between the throngs of people in loose-fitting clothes and swimming costumes that show plentiful amounts of tanned skin. Sun, sea and sand, it’s no surprise that it’s hard to find a single clear path across the beach.</p><p>There are the sounds of a competition coming from further along the beach, yells and cheers and a man's voice speaking rapid Portuguese through a crackly megaphone. Without a sunhat to protect his eyes, it's far too bright to see what’s gathering a crowd from this distance, so Tooru picks his way across the sand back to the veranda, slipping his shoes back on as he steps back onto the cement walkway.</p><p>The gathered crowd has spilled out onto the steps of the promenade and the sloping dunes, eager eyes fixed onto the match in front of them. Tooru slows to a stop near the edge, a respectable distance away from a man about his age who sat watching with wide eyes.</p><p>Up ahead of them, there’s a fierce beach volleyball match going on. It’s nothing like the volleyball Tooru had known back in Japan, inside on the solid wooden floor of the courts. This is rough and raw and desperate, the players kicking up sand and sweat with every step, hot sun beating down mercilessly on them. </p><p>At first glance, one team seems to completely outmatch the other, with both players towering over six foot tall. In comparison, the other team boasts one absolute giant of a man, and then a player that looks as if he’s barely breaking five foot eight.</p><p>It’s a fairly universal truth in sports like volleyball that height <em> matters </em>. Which isn’t to say that there aren't short players who are incredible, but that there’s little skill that can overcome the raw offensive and defensive power of someone vertically blessed. </p><p>From this angle, Tooru can’t see the score, but he doesn’t need to. Even discarding the height difference, it’s obvious the taller team are veterans, and their skill far outweighs the other team. With a huff and flick of his hair, he’s just about to turn away and continue his walk down the promenade when he sees it.</p><p>In the corner of his eye. That alien orange. </p><p>The shorter player's sunhat had fallen off as he’d pushed off the sand for his jump, wind whisking it away to expose the shock of tangerine hair hidden beneath. Despite everything, that wasn’t what had caught Tooru’s attention.</p><p>Pushing off from the sand, feet not slipping on that unstable base, he soars high in the sky. Up and up and up until Tooru is half convinced he’s going to reach all the way up into space, past the moon towards the outer reaches of their solar system.</p><p>He hangs in the air for what seems like an eternity, impossibly high, and Tooru finds himself drawn to him - like he was a star, burning so bright that he put the sun to shame, and Tooru was just another helpless planet caught in his gravitational pull, unable to muster the strength to pull away.</p><p>Turns out he was wrong. The man isn’t an alien, he’s a star.</p><p>Tooru can’t look away. He’s spent most of the past few years looking at stars - examining them, analysing them, identifying them - and yet he’s never seen a star that burns with such intensity as the man before him.</p><p>With a whip-fast movement, the man smashes the ball down onto the sand on the other side of the net in a spike that has shivers worming their way down Tooru’s spine. He lands back down on the sand, soft-footed and almost cat-like with his impeccable balance. Their opponents never stood a chance against that attack, against that otherworldly speed and height.</p><p>Back on solid earth, the man glows no less iridescent, leaning across to high-five his partner and wipe sweat off his forehead, a bright smile breaking across his tanned face. Tooru can’t make out his face from this distance, just the broad musculature of his back and shoulders, golden and inviting.</p><p>“Amazing,” Tooru murmurs, unable to take his eyes off the man. “That jump…” If anything, seeing his alien in person has just confirmed that he’s definitely not human - <em>I</em> <em>mean seriously, who jumps like that on</em> sand<em>? </em></p><p>The man sitting near him looks up as he speaks, ears perking up at the sound of Tooru’s awed exhale. “Ninja Shouyou.” His voice is quiet, the name slipping out of his mouth so gently that Tooru has to strain to hear. “That’s what they call him.” His Japanese is excellent, only the hints of an accent curling at the edges.</p><p><em> Ninja Shouyou </em>. </p><p>
  <em> First contact established. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>[<span class="u"> <em> Research Log - Tooru Oikawa - XX-XX-XXXX </em> </span>]</p><p>Ninja Shouyou. Would it be too forward to suggest to my supervisor that we rename Omega Centauri after him?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It’s as if everything slotted into place after that encounter, the final piece of the equation that Tooru needed to solve everything, and now he’s been presented with the final answer.</p><p>He sees Ninja Shouyou everywhere now, not just as a flash of orange in his peripheral vision anymore. He’s in the library, bouncing excitedly and talking far too loudly to the stranger from the promenade that Tooru can only assume is his friend. He’s in the cafe, drinking coffee out of a to-go cup because he never has the time to sit down and drink it properly. He’s in the courtyard, nipping past on his bike with a delivery box strapped to his back.</p><p>He’s on the beach, playing beach volleyball night and day, all sweat and smiles and warmth that puts the sun to shame.</p><p>It takes Tooru two weeks to try and build up the courage to approach him. If Iwaizumi were here to see the way he dithered and lurked at the edge of the promenade every single night, watching and examining and biding his time, he’d probably never live it down.</p><p><em> Oikawa Tooru, afraid to approach a boy? Oikawa Tooru, of all people? </em> That’s probably what he’d say. <em> I didn’t think you felt nervous, especially not around people you like. </em>Then he’d go on to insult Tooru for being a weird, creepy stalker, and threaten to tell everyone about how terrible he is. For all his ribbing, however, he’d be the one to give Tooru that confidence boost he needs, that final push. A country away, there’s no option but to be self-sufficient and take things into his own hands.</p><p>It isn’t that he feels nervous, Tooru knows this. Perhaps on the court he’s a different person, confident and capable. But in real life he’s an astrophysicist through and through, which means he’s far more used to looking at stellar objects through a telescope from a safe distance of thousands of parsecs away, rather than trying to flirt with them.</p><p>Besides, it’s not like he’s ever had to worry about making the first move before. Normally others are drawn to him. He’s like a black hole - his gravity draws people in and they’re left unable to escape, slowly pulled into his orbit.</p><p>Or something to that effect. Iwaizumi had told him he was like a black hole because he was ridiculously dense. Then punched him in the arm.</p><p>He makes his move late one evening, long after the sun has set and Ninja Shouyou has bid his current game partners good night in loud, cheerful Portuguese. Tooru had watched the game from the treeline, leaning up against the rough bark of the nearest tree casually. At least ninety percent of his attention had actually been focused on Ninja Shouyou’s playing, and the remaining ten percent had been delegated to what Tooru liked to call ‘aesthetic appreciation’ for the volleyball players' thighs.</p><p>Once the game is done with, Ninja Shouyou stops to take a long drink from his bottle, Adam's apple bobbing as he does so. Tooru ignores the dryness in his throat and steps forward out of the shadows, feet sinking into the still-warm sand.</p><p>“Nice game there, chibi-chan,” Tooru calls out as he approaches. Ahead of him, Ninja Shouyou pauses mid drink, back to him. </p><p>“Huh?” It takes a moment for the man to register Tooru’s voice, and then he spins around so quickly he kicks up sand. “You’re Japanese!”</p><p>Tooru finally gets the opportunity to take in his face properly for the first time. He’s tanned from day after day out under the sun, and there’s a constant, wide grin on his lips. His eyes are big and bright, reflecting the night sky above, glittering and full of stars. That head of wild, vibrant ginger hair.</p><p>With a smile that borders between friendly and flirty, Tooru repeats himself. “You’re a really good player.”</p><p>Ninja Shouyou beams, and Tooru almost wants to cover his eyes at the sight. <em> Fuck, too bright. </em>“Wah, thanks!” he responds, excitable as ever. He pauses suddenly, looking up at Tooru with a considering gaze. “Hang on, were you just watching me from the shadows over there?”</p><p>Tooru flounders. “What? Uh… No? Yes? What? I mean…”</p><p>Raucous laughter makes its way out of Ninja Shouyou, filling the night air and overpowering the sounds of chatter and music that make their way from the streets of Rio. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind! I’m used to lots of people watching me play, haha! Did you want to play a game with me? You seem like you’d be a good player.”</p><p>Before Tooru can open his mouth to answer, Ninja Shouyou’s stomach lets out a loud growl and he clutches it with one hand. “Looks like your stomach has some objections to that,” Tooru says, smirk on his lips. “How about this - I’ll take you out for dinner, and then we can play some volleyball? I’m warning you though, I used to be really good back in middle school.”</p><p>Ninja Shouyou’s blinding smile grows even wider, and he bounces on the balls of his feet. “Deal!</p><p>I know a really good place that isn’t too far from here. It’s really good, and it’s cheap too! And healthy!”</p><p>Tooru marvels at the lack of stranger danger awareness this ball of condensed starlight seems to have. Not that he’s any better, asking a stranger out for a meal after observing him silently for weeks. Wait, that makes him sound really bad. “Sounds great, lead the way. I’m Oikawa Tooru, by the way.”</p><p>“Hinata Shouyou,” comes the reply. </p><p>Sirens start going off in Tooru’s head, as if a big red panic button has been pressed and it’s all systems go. There’s probably a bunch of tiny brain cells and neurons and whatever else is inside brains (there’s a reason he’s a physicist and not a biologist) running around and yelling <em> hinata shouyou oh my god his name is hinata shouyou we know his name now oh my god </em>.</p><p>On the outside, he just smiles. “Let’s go, Shouyou,” he says. With an eager bounce to his step, Hinata falls into step beside Tooru. He hadn’t been lying when he said it wasn’t far from where they currently were, no more than a five minute walk further into the streets of Rio, and if Tooru squints down the road through the darkness he can just about make out the silver glittering of the ocean, reflecting the full moons’ light.</p><p>Dinner is a noisy affair. It seems like Hinata does everything in life with the same gusto he takes to beach volleyball, and Tooru finds Hinata’s infectious energy relaxing him, soothing the ache in his shoulders after hunching over a screen for hours on end. His movements loosen up, and he stops caring so much about exactly who is watching him, instead tucking into his food like a starving man. Hinata beams approvingly from across the small table.</p><p>The food is good, as promised. Tooru doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to eat elsewhere again. The restaurant is a small family-run affair, and the owners are friendly people with sunshine smiles to rival Hinata’s own. That said, undoubtedly the best part of the meal is the company.</p><p>Through stuffed mouthfuls of food and cheeks packed like squirrels, Tooru slowly gets to know the enigma that is Hinata Shouyou. He learns where he’s from (Miyagi Prefecture, which is hauntingly too close to home for Tooru), how old he is (twenty, which makes him two years Tooru’s junior), why he’s in Brazil (to play beach volleyball in order to get better at <em> normal </em>volleyball), what volleyball position he plays (middle blocker, despite his height - and he doesn’t appreciate Tooru’s incredulous laugh, turning bright red in the face).</p><p>In return, Tooru offers snippets of information about himself back. What position does he play? Setter. Is he any good? Better than Hinata, if the flimsy plays Tooru had seen earlier were any indication. What’s he doing in Rio? A Masters degree in Astrophysics. Why is someone as cool and handsome as him studying something boring and stupid like physics instead of playing volleyball?</p><p>The last one makes Tooru pause, jaw agape. Hinata is staring at him with curious, innocent eyes, clearly seeing no issue with his question. A laugh makes its way out of Tooru, surprising Hinata, and it’s like the dam has broken and once he’s started he can’t stop. It must have been months, maybe even <em> years </em> since he’s laughed this hard, laughed like he has no other cares in the world other than just living in this present moment, right now.</p><p>Hinata is a breath of fresh, cool air in the midst of Rio’s humid heat. He’s so unabashedly earnest and honest, saying what he thinks but never being rude, and his single-minded devotion to volleyball is something that Tooru both envies and loves.</p><p>“You’re really something else, y’know?” Tooru finally says after the bout of laughter has subsided. “Everyone thought I was crazy travelling halfway across the world to attend university, but you’re out here alone just to play beach volleyball. You’re one of a kind for sure, Shouyou.” The younger man lights up at the praise, cheeks flushing. “That said, there are other things in life than volleyball worth pursuing. Sometimes life doesn’t turn out how you think it will. I bet you never saw yourself playing beach volleyball in Rio, did you?”</p><p>Hinata hums, stroking his chin consideringly. “You’re right, Oikawa-san. But still! Physics… that’s so many numbers, so much thinking to do!”</p><p>Tooru leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice how Hinata’s eyes tracked the movement. “It’s not that different from volleyball,” he says.</p><p>Perhaps to others, maybe, volleyball and physics seem opposite to each other. But to Tooru, who has always had a certain fascination with figuring things out, taking things apart and making them go, pushing them to the extreme until they crumbled, the two could not be fully separated in his mind. </p><p><em> If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks. </em>There’s that same destruction behind the both of them that Tooru loves. Volleyball has always been about thinking; meticulously planning steps ahead, pinpointing the weaknesses to exploit and put pressure on, and then applying that brute force until it cracks. Physics is about taking something completely apart, destroying it completely in order to understand it, muddling through the maths and the complexities in order to define it in set and rigid terms, so that when it next comes along you know exactly how it works. If Tooru had to choose between which type of destruction he loved more - defeating your opponents on the court, or the inevitable and explosive death of a star - he would be hard pressed to choose.</p><p>With enough work, enough force applied and enough relentless effort put in, anything is possible, and that stays true to both volleyball and physics.</p><p>But that isn’t an easy thing to put into words.</p><p>The word volleyball seems to elicit a Pavlovian response in Hinata, and his metaphorical dog tail starts wagging frantically. “Hey, speaking of! Let’s go play now! People are always out playing on the beach until pretty late around here!” He points excitedly towards the door as he practically yells the words, eyes sparkling.</p><p>Tooru is only human. He’s helplessly gay, and there’s a out-of-this-world beautiful guy asking him to do something right now. How is he supposed to resist? Screw the page upon page of integrations and calculations he’s got waiting on his desk at home. Hinata Shouyou wants to spend time with him, who cares about the binding energy of polytropes?</p><p>What follows is this: Tooru attempts to show off and impress Hinata with his volleyball skills, and seriously misjudges exactly how different playing on sand is to playing on the court, and falls on his face approximately fourteen times in the span of five minutes. He’s going to be finding sand in places where sand should <em> not </em>be for months after this. </p><p>“This isn’t volleyball,” Tooru spits out, pulling himself up onto all fours after yet another faceplant into the sand. There’s a bitter crunch as he speaks, and he just knows he’s swallowed some sand. <em> So much for making a good impression on Shouyou and impressing him… I can hardly move in this stuff, and he’s moving so easily!  </em>“This is a completely different sport just masquerading as volleyball!”</p><p>Hinata laughs. “It’s definitely different - the sand is a lot less forgiving than the court. But don’t worry, Oikawa-san, you’re getting the hang of it a lot quicker than I am! Let’s play some more!”</p><p>Warmth like molten gold bleeds through Tooru’s veins at Hinata’s enthusiasm. Hinata is really something. He’s new and fresh and different and exciting, yet still so familiar at the same time. He’s a sense of belonging, a sense of being wanted.</p><p>They bounce the ball around between the two of them a little more, Tooru gradually getting used to the slippery sand underfoot and putting up a few decent sets, although the wind destroys most of his attempts at a jump serve. The embarrassment is worth it to see the sparkle in Hinata’s eyes, however.</p><p>It’s nearly midnight by the time Hinata seems to be flagging only slightly. Tooru - already exhausted, months and years of being out of shape catching up to him - admires his stamina, as well as admiring the way that sweat looks glistening on his tanned skin, like constellations. Tooru wants to map them all out, one by one. To run his fingers over the tapestry of Hinata’s skin and never stop.</p><p>“I should get going,” Tooru says regretfully, and he can practically see Hinata deflate. “I’ve got to go to the lab early tomorrow morning, and I’m already going to be feeling this enough as it is. It was fun playing with you, Shouyou. You’re certainly an interesting guy, and for someone of your height you’ve got some really impressive jumps. You’ll give everyone a scare back on the courts in Japan.”</p><p>“Thank you, Oikawa-san!” Hinata beams. He slaps his thighs. “It’s all the muscle I’ve been building up on these.”</p><p>Tooru isn’t religious, but he offers up a prayer nonetheless, carefully averting his eyes. “Oh, I bet,” he manages to get out with a wink that has Hinata blinking at him in confusion. <em> God he’s so oblivious.  </em></p><p>“Anyway!” A phone is thrust into Tooru’s hands before he can blink. “Oikawa-san! Can I have your number, pretty please? Let’s play some more here on the beach! Your sets are super-duper awesome and I wanna hit them again, and your serves are so scary! When you can get them in aha!” He yells so excitedly that his words start blurring together.</p><p>Tooru throws his head back with a smile, eyes tracking the motion of clouds up above. It’s been so long since he’s met someone as earnestly honest and open with praise as Hinata. There’s always a <em>better</em>, an improvement to be made both in academia and professional sports, but Hinata has no care for that. He sees everything as it is. It’s refreshing, and invigorating. Tooru is not above being persuaded by copious amounts of compliments.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he wheedles, “I’m a busy guy, y’know? I spend most days at the lab or on campus, and my nights are pretty full.” There’s a cheeky twinkle in his eye as he looks down at Hinata. “I might need a bit of an incentive.”</p><p>It’s a gamble, trusting that Hinata has enough self-awareness to accept Tooru’s bait instead of just giving up, but it pays off. Hinata gasps. “What? What sort of incentive?”</p><p>“Take me to dinner sometime, hm?” Tooru loads up his stare with as much flirty confidence as he can muster, and if the faint blush on Hinata’s cheek is any indication (though that could just be the heat getting to him) it works.</p><p>“Of course,” Hinata says, only stumbling slightly, looking adorably out of his depth. His messy ginger hair is falling over his eyes, all big and brown and surprised, and Tooru has never wanted to kiss a boy under the moonlight like some sort of Shoujo protagonist before. </p><p>“It’s a date then.” Hinata flushes even further red at Tooru’s suggestive words, and the smirk on Tooru’s lips grows even bigger. <em> He’s just too much fun to mess with. </em></p><p>“I’ll text you!” Hinata calls after him after Tooru has slipped his shoes back on and is stepping onto the promenade.</p><p>“I look forward to it!” are the last words Tooru gets out before he’s turning his back and heading back to his place. It’s a fairly long walk, but he doesn’t want to risk getting the metro this late at night, especially not since a drunken tourist had thrown up next to him one time. </p><p>Besides, he needs some fresh air and breathing space to get his head in order.</p><p>First things first: apparently there <em> isn’t </em> evidence of alien life on Earth, found here in Rio de Janeiro. Which, well, it sucks. Tooru thinks it would have been pretty cool to be the person who discovered alien life. Also, now he’s going to look like a complete idiot in front of Iwaizumi, which frankly no one wants to do.</p><p>On the bright side, however, Tooru has made a new friend. And he’s got his number, as well as a date organised - not that he thinks Hinata <em> knows </em>it’s a date, but baby steps, right? He’ll get to know Hinata through volleyball, and if Hinata hasn’t run off screaming and yelling in horror by then… well, frankly Tooru doesn’t know what comes next. He’s never gotten past the ‘running and screaming’ phase, and sometimes they don’t even get past the ‘hey I know I’m an asshole but-’ phase.</p><p>He likes hanging out with Hinata, though. It’s always a gamble, trying to befriend someone you thought was an alien less than a week ago (as you do), but all's well that ends well; Tooru didn’t get beamed up into a UFO, or have his organs secretly removed for alien experimentation, but he did manage to befriend a small piece of home out here. A friend who he has only a mild aesthetic attraction to. A marginal amount of attraction. A less than significant amount of inappropriate horny thoughts for.</p><p>(That is, if wanting to hold his hand and hug him and go on dates with him and play volleyball with him and stargaze with him all fall under the classification of ‘horny’, which on second thoughts Tooru is starting to think that they don’t.)</p><p>Okay, fine, Tooru can admit it. </p><p>Hinata Shouyou is not an alien, he's a very real, very handsome young man who haunts  Tooru’s every waking and sleeping moment, like an evil spectre except he’s not evil, he’s just ridiculously hot. And sweet, and excitable, and full of praise and compliments that make Tooru feel like he’s a star going supernova.</p><p>Fuck, he’s so gone.</p><p>The problem now is how to ask him out on a date.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><b>ME</b>: hey so i think i’m in love (*≧ω≦*)<br/>
<b>IWA-CHAN</b>: oh god not again<br/>
<b>ME</b>: im being serious i found the man of my dreams<br/>
<b>IWA-CHAN</b>: poor guy<br/>
<b>ME</b>: he plays beach volleyball  。.:☆*:･'(*⌒―⌒*)))<br/>
<b>IWA-CHAN: </b>then isn’t he suffering enough already<br/>
<b>IWA CHAN</b>: jokes aside good for u tell me about him<br/>
<b>ME</b>: [Voice Message Length: 15min 43seconds]<br/>
<b>IWA CHAN:</b> fuck ur so smitten that’s disgusting<br/>
<b>IWA CHAN</b>: it’s a good look on u tho</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Hinata, Tooru soon discovers, is as eager and friendly and excitable over text as he is in person, and just as obliviously resistant to Tooru’s advances. When Tooru checks his phone as he gets home that first night, there’s already eight messages from Hinata, filled with emoticons and enough capslock and exclamation marks to make Tooru drop the phone with a groan. <em> He’s gonna be the death of me. </em></p><p>Despite his complaints, he manages to find time most evenings in a week to play with Hinata, rushing through assignments and projects in his haste to make time. His professors commend his work ethic. It seems even the huge, dark eye bags under his eyes aren’t enough to offset the energy that Hinata Shouyou’s very existence gives him. </p><p>Between his masters project work and playing volleyball with Hinata, he’s running himself ragged in a way he knows he hasn’t done since middle school. But it’s different this time. He’s still working himself hard, that’s for sure, and he’s still playing volleyball with the same attentiveness and fervor he had at age fourteen, but without the pressure and the expectation.</p><p>He left that all behind him when he pursued space, and Hinata has brought volleyball back into his life in a whirlwind of laughter and sun-bright smiles and endearing brightness. Tooru’s playing volleyball now because it’s <em> fun </em>, approaching volleyball with the same enthusiasm he does calculating the Jean’s mass of a molecular cloud.</p><p>(Which, okay, it doesn’t sound like it should be fun, but it is. Sue him, space is cool, and maths is fun. Who said gay people couldn’t do maths? There’s certainly not anything heterosexual about calculating the trajectory of the sweat beads that drip down Hinata’s jaw and the long line of his neck, that’s for sure.)</p><p>Hinata is a breath of fresh air. He plays volleyball with such enthusiasm and drive and infectious love for the sport, and in turn imbues that same energy and love in Tooru. He’s always full of praises, eyes sparkling like Tooru’s sets are the best thing he’s ever seen. Tooru’s stuck in quicksand, falling deeper and deeper for Hinata.</p><p>Sadly, his flirting attempts go unnoticed and with each accidental rebuff and rejection it’s another arrow through Tooru’s heart. But that’s okay, he’s not so vain he can’t handle a few rejections (that’s a lie).</p><p>They go on that dinner date Hinata had promised. As far as proper dates go, there’s not much to it. They get street food and wander along the promenade to laugh at tourists attempting - and failing - to play beach volleyball. </p><p>“You did a faceplant like that, Oikawa-san,” Hinata points out.</p><p>Tooru wraps one arm around Hinata’s shoulders and tugs him closer with a huff. “Oi! I looked far cooler than that, chibi-chan!” Hinata doesn’t even seem to blink at the casual intimacy, even as Tooru’s heartbeat is racing a million miles a second, fearing that Hinata will shrug him off.</p><p>Hinata hums, bringing one hand up to rub his chin, as if he actually has to consider it. “Hm, I suppose you did, but that’s only because you always look cool, no matter what you’re doing.” Tooru’s traitorous little gay heart skips a beat.</p><p>“Glad to see you’re finally getting it.”</p><p>They watch the tourists for a while longer, and Tooru doesn’t move his arm. As they get to know each other, the comfortable intimacy has been growing, touches growing more confident and lingering longer. Hinata is the perfect height, tucked under his arm and into his side, and it’s so comfortable Tooru doesn’t ever want to stop. He could probably live like this now. Volleyball might be a bit hard, but they’d manage.</p><p>“That guy’s a good setter,” Hinata points out, gesturing towards a tall guy playing a game nearest to them. He’s a tourist, so his technique is non existent but he’s not doing bad overall.</p><p>“He’s almost as good as you,” Tooru teases, and then laughs full-bellied when the guy misses his next set and the ball hits him in the head. “Okay, that’s definitely like you.”</p><p>“<em> Oikawa-san </em>!”</p><p>Hinata’s voice is whiny and indignant, attracting a few bemused looks from those around them. Tooru can’t help but give in to praise him. There’s just something about Hinata - his drive, his hunger for validation, his open honesty - that just makes Tooru want to heap every compliment on him, to help nurture and foster his growth until he grows into exactly the person and player Tooru knows he can become just by looking at him. “You’re a good player, Shouyou. Your gameplay sense has improved a lot over the last few weeks as well.”</p><p>Hinata blooms under the praise, lower lip wobbling slightly as he looks up at Tooru. “Oikawa-san…”</p><p>“Don’t get me wrong, though, you’re nowhere near my level as a setter. Although there aren’t many other players on my level, so I suppose you’re doing fine.”</p><p>Like the protagonist in a shounen manga, Hinata holds his fist out in the air triumphantly. Tooru watches with an amused look. “That’s okay! I just need to get better at setting, so I can rub it in Kageyama’s face when I get back to Japan, hah!”</p><p>Tooru freezes, mouth parted in shock. It can’t be the same. Surely not. “Kageyama Tobio?”</p><p>Hinata tilts his head to one side, bird-like. “Yes. Wait, do you know him?”</p><p>Hinata knows Kageyama, of all people. What are the chances?</p><p>“We went to the same middle school,” Tooru admits. “I was something of a mentor to him, and taught him everything he knew basically.” Not that genius Tobio had needed much teaching, but Tooru will take credit for whatever he can. Besides, it’s certainly not like he was imagining the way little Tobio had stared at him, bright-eyed and admiring</p><p>“You were friends with Kageyama?” Hinata’s excitement is infectious.</p><p>“No, not at all,” Tooru says, voice dripping with distaste. He tosses his hair and huffs. “I’d rather die than be considered friends with Tobio-chan. We’re rivals, and I hate him. There’s nothing I enjoy more in life than the defeated look on his face when I beat him at things.”</p><p>“Okay.” Hinata sounds confused. “Does that mean I can’t take a selfie with you to send to him?” He holds out his phone, decked out in a cute little milk phone case that somehow Tooru <em> knows </em>was given to him by Kageyama. Childish spite rears its head once more.</p><p>“Of course we can take a selfie to send to Tobio-chan.” Hinata holds the phone up to take a picture, and Tooru leans in as close as he can so his cheek is practically pressed against Hinata’s (even though it means he has to slouch to reach Hinata’s height) and gives the camera his best smug smirk. Beside him, Hinata is beaming with joy, cheeks dusted red with the beginning of a killer sunburn.</p><p>“Kageyama is going to be so jealous I met someone he knew in Brazil,” he says excitedly, thumbs flying over the keys. <em> Oh, he’s going to be jealous all right, </em> Tooru thinks. “We’ve got a competition going on to see who can win the most at life, and I’m ahead at the moment. Oh, hey, can you take a photo of me standing on the beach, too? My little sister wanted to see one, and she says I’m bad at taking selfies.”</p><p>Tooru graciously accepts the phone that’s pressed into his hand. The conversation with Kageyama is still open, and he can see that his underclassman has replied.</p><p><b>ME</b> : look who I met in brazil! [image attached]<br/>
<b>DUMBASS KAGEYAMA: </b> is that oikawa-senpai<br/>
<b>DUMBASS KAGEYAMA:</b> how do you know him<br/>
<b>DUMBASS KAGEYAMA</b>: ??? hinata idiot reply to me</p><p>Smug satisfaction fills Tooru, and he can’t resist the temptation to snap a quick selfie on Hinata’s phone and send it off. Kageyama’s reply is immediate.</p><p><b>ME</b> : yahoo tobio-chan (◕‿◕)♡ [image attached]<br/>
<b>DUMBASS KAGEYAMA</b> : why do you have hinatas phone<br/>
<b>ME</b> : hmm he’s a bit busy right now ;)<br/>
<b>DUMBASS KAGEYAMA</b> : what does that mean<br/>
<b>ME</b> : me and shouyou-kun are very close you know (つ≧▽≦)つ<br/>
<b>ME</b> : he even let me set for him :3c<br/>
<b>ME</b>: said that my sets are the best he’s ever had (っ˘ω˘ς )</p><p>A few seconds pass and Kageyama’s reply doesn’t come again, but Tooru can see from the small tick mark that he’s read it. Good.</p><p>Hinata lets out an impatient harrumph from a few metres away, and Tooru shoots him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Shouyou.” As Hinata poses, Tooru snaps pictures and tries not to get horny in public. <em> Fucking beach volleyball players and their physique and their sleeveless shirts and their shorts and their thighs. </em></p><p>With the sunlight behind him, Hinata glows, and Tooru realises for the first time exactly how deep he’s in. It’s only been a few weeks since he first approached Hinata, since he started getting to know him, and already he’s snuck into Tooru’s heart and his life, to the point where Tooru can’t imagine his days without him.</p><p>The thought of going through his days without that sunshine smile, without that loud voice yelling in his ear and  without those calm, confident hands brushing sunscreen along the swell of Tooru’s cheeks every time he forgets to put it on. Where would he be without Hinata’s regular texts, updating Tooru on small details of his day and photos of what he’s eating for lunch, or a particularly beautiful view he saw while working?</p><p>Where would he be, if not here and now, sending back texts to Hinata about a particularly tricky practical experiment, or sending selfies of his own tired face slumped on his desk?</p><p>Hinata is bold and bright and announces his presence to everyone in a hundred kilometre radius, yet somehow he’s managed to sneak into all the little parts of Tooru’s life unnoticed, becoming so closely intertwined that Tooru cannot imagine Brazil without Hinata Shouyou. He cannot imagine himself, this current iteration of himself shaped by the experiences of every passing day, without Hinata.</p><p>And that terrifies him, but he supposes that is what love is.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>With every month that flies by, spent in the comfort of Hinata’s bright warmth, the roots Hinata has laid within Tooru burrow deeper. He’s the late night stargazing, the feeling of hot sand underneath the soles of burnt feet, the cool splash of water around Tooru’s calves as they stand knee deep in the ocean at sunset, grinning wildly at each other.</p><p>He’s the little details, like remembering Tooru’s favourite milk bread and buying it from the Asian food shop whenever he sees it, like good luck texts before exams that somehow manage to say all the words that Tooru needs to hear most. The little plaits he makes in Tooru’s hair that he forgets to take out, until Tooru sees them when he’s washing up before bed and remembers the gentle touch of Hinata’s fingers combing through his hair.</p><p>He’s in the big things too, like showing up outside Tooru’s lecture theatre to bring him coffee and ask for help analysing volleyball game footage. Like buying him a necklace, saying that it just ‘<em> reminded him of Tooru </em>’. Like spontaneously appearing outside Tooru’s door to drag him out to the beach and beg him to go clubbing with him.</p><p>Hinata is a piece of home and comfort far from home, yet he still manages to bring Tooru out of his comfort zone and challenge him every single day.</p><p>“What do you say, Oikawa-san?” Hinata asks. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, sending sand flying up in all directions. With the sun setting behind them, it’s casting a warm glow that makes Hinata’s tanned skin and tangerine orange hair glow golden. Tooru’s throat is dry.  “Do you want to play beach volleyball with me this evening? Or would you rather go <em> dance the night away </em>?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice.</p><p>Tooru lets out a bark of laughter. “Dance the night away? I hadn’t pegged you for a Twice fan, Shouyou.”</p><p>“I’m the biggest Once,” Hinata says, shooting Tooru a sun-bright smile that has his heart missing several beats. Hinata leans in close, giving Tooru a perfect view of the sweat that beads all along his collarbone and throat. “Don’t tell anyone, but I know all the moves to ‘What is Love’.”</p><p>“You’ll have to teach me then sometime,” Tooru purrs, hand gently touching Hinata’s waist, and Hinata’s face goes as red as his hair. </p><p>They seem to be making progress with the flirting thing, if the increasing amount of blushes and lingering touches on Hinata’s end are any indication. But the cost seems to be that for every step he takes closer to Hinata, Hinata also takes one step closer to him.</p><p>Tooru tells himself that he doesn’t mind.</p><p>The truth is, it’s terrifying. </p><p>With every new claim that Hinata stakes on Tooru - with every small detail he remembers, every thought or feeling that he interprets, despite Tooru’s best attempts to hide them - Tooru wants to shy away. That fear inside him just keeps growing. Hinata is an explosion of heat and brightness and energy, a supernova revolutionising Tooru’s life, but he’s afraid that if Hinata keeps going he’s going to blow away Tooru’s careful constructed smokescreen of interstellar gas and dust, and reveal the dead core that remains inside.</p><p>And he can’t let Hinata see that.</p><p>What he has with Hinata is so good and pure and bright. Hinata thinks the world of him, Tooru knows. Thinks that he’s wonderful, and smart, and good, for some unfathomable reason. Perhaps it isn’t so unfathomable, because Tooru himself knows he can be these things. He works hard to be who he is, to achieve what he wants, and that isn’t a bad thing. He isn’t objectively a bad thing.</p><p>But at his core he knows that he’s selfish and not good, and he can’t allow Hinata - Hinata who thinks so highly of him - to see that. He can’t risk corrupting that naive brightness that is innate to who Hinata is. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he did.</p><p>In the end, they go clubbing, Hinata teaches him <em> Twice </em>dances, and Tooru tries to make himself feel at ease with how easily Hinata seems to have slipped past his defenses. Tries to retain those final walls of distance between them, but in the end it spirals out of his control like a set gone awry.</p><p>It’s an inconsequential thing that brings it to a head in the end. One minute they’re laughing, and then Tooru makes a blunder. That’s all it takes, and Tooru knows that Hinata sees straight through him, straight through the facade of self-assurance.</p><p>“You know,” Hinata says, the tone suddenly serious. The air around them changes, the joking and cheerful mood dissipating. “You’re surprisingly… close lipped about yourself, Oikawa-san.”</p><p>Tooru lets out a fake laugh. “Close-lipped about myself? Me? Are we definitely talking about the same person here? I’m wonderful and talented and gorgeous, and I certainly never shut up about it.” There’s a bitter taste in his mouth.</p><p>“I mean, you talk about yourself lots. But I don’t think you ever talk… about yourself.”</p><p>“You’re not making any sense, chibi-chan.” Tooru’s voice comes out clipped, sharper than he’d intended it if Hinata’s shocked face is any indication. He feels the regret immediately.</p><p>“I know lots of facts about you - that you’re doing a masters at the National Observatory, that you played setter in middle school, that your closest friend - or worst friend, I get confused on that sometimes - is studying in California. You talk lots about yourself, but it feels like that’s just a way to avoid ever having to actually talk about yourself. Like you think no one wants to know those parts of you.”</p><p>Tooru doesn’t quite know how to string a sentence together. Hinata ploughs on regardless. “Sure, you tell me how you feel about things, and what you think about things, and your face is really easy to read. But sometimes it just feels like the person who you’re presenting to me isn’t who you<em> actually </em> are sometimes.”</p><p>A small laugh makes its way out of Tooru’s throat. The night seems colder, tonight, leaving him shivering slightly. “What you see is what you get,” he says. “I’m a bit of a bastard all the way through. Smart, but arrogant. Handsome, but vain. I have my moments, though. At least, that’s what my friends would all tell you.”</p><p>“I don’t think you’re any of those things,” Hinata insists, and Tooru laughs until he realises that Hinata isn’t joking. “You’re… nice.”</p><p>“Now I know you’re just making things up.”</p><p>“See!” Hinata’s hands wave in the air, flailing and almost hitting Tooru in the face. “This is what I mean!.”</p><p>Once more, Tooru is at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, Shouyou,” he finally says. “But this is just how I am. I think you might be the first person who’s ever called me nice.”</p><p>“Then they clearly haven’t spiked one of your tosses, then.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>Hinata’s eyes take on that glazed, otherworldly look that they always do when he talks about volleyball, when he starts spouting poetic nonsense about how it’s something completely out of this world. “Your tosses… everything about them is perfect. For every single spike, you always give up the perfect toss that I need. It makes me want to live up to your expectations, to return what you’ve given me. You talk about yourself like you’re selfish and inconsiderate, but you’re completely wrong. You’re considerate, and self-aware, and so <em> good </em>, and I don’t think people remind you of that enough, do they?”</p><p>Tooru’s throat is dry, and the sand beneath his feet is coarse and unwelcoming, leaving him profoundly uncomfortable from the root up. </p><p>He’d never felt what it’s like to be so thoroughly seen before. Never considered that perhaps Hinata Shouyou is not the star here, it’s him, and Hinata is the astrophysicist who sits in front of the telescope and the computer and watches him - analyses him -, taking him apart bit by bit to understand his inner workings better than he understands them himself. Hinata might not be a mathematician, but he certainly hadn’t struggled to break Tooru down into the hundreds of composite equations that make him up, and solved him as easily as he would 2+4=6.</p><p>And then he’d sat Tooru down, and explained the maths step by step until Tooru himself understood it, with such open honesty that it’s shocking.</p><p>“They don’t tell me that because it’s not true.” Tooru’s proud that his voice doesn’t crack, because despite everything he’s still clinging on to that worthless pride of his and he refuses to let anyone, even Hinata Shouyou, see him break down. He’d broken down in front of Iwaizumi before, but that’s different. Hinata is… different.</p><p>“I thought you knew me enough to know that I wouldn’t lie to you,” Hinata replies. “And I thought you would know by now that I value your honesty, too. I could never…” he pauses, biting his lip, and gives Tooru the first glimpse that perhaps he isn’t as naive and innocent as he seemed all along. “I could never be with someone who wasn’t willing to share even the worst parts of themself with me. I’m not a little kid. I’m not someone who needs to be shielded and ‘protected’ from the ‘real’ you. You can let me make my own decisions on that. Anyway, it’s getting late now and you probably have work to do. I’ll see you later.”</p><p>It’s Tooru’s first time being rebuffed. His first time being rebuffed by Hinata, too, who up until now had seemed accepting but woefully ignorant of Tooru’s advances. </p><p>As he watches Hinata’s back, Tooru realises that perhaps Hinata hadn’t been the one who needed to get with the memo all along, it had been him.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>[<span class="u"> <em> Research Log - Tooru Oikawa - XX-XX-XXXX </em> </span>]</p><p>“...Rotation periods for cool stars can be measured with good precision by monitoring starspot light modulation. Observations have shown that the rotation periods of dwarf stars of roughly solar metallicity have such systematic dependencies on stellar age and mass that they can be used to derive reliable ages, a procedure called gyrochronology…” (Barnes 2016)<br/>
To do:</p>
<ul>
<li><strike>Read Skumanich (1972)</strike></li>
<li>Contact Antonio about organising observation dates…</li>
<li>Hinata hasn’t texted me in a few days. Whenever I go by the beach in the evenings he’s not there.</li>
</ul><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>[<span class="u"> <em> Research Log - Tooru Oikawa - XX-XX-XXXX </em> </span>]</p><p>Saw Pedro on campus today. He glared at me. Still no contact from Hinata. Should I just give up?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>[<span class="u"> <em> Research Log - Tooru Oikawa - XX-XX-XXXX </em> </span>]</p><p>In order to calculate the flux variation, observations of the star must first be taken.  The telescope used is  a  14-inch  diameter  Celestron  EdgeHd  Schmidt-Cassegrain.  It has a focal length of 3910mm (reduced to 2740mm).  This telescope is equipped with a CCD camera, as well as a wide range of wavelength filters. The  filters  in  the  telescope  are  Bessel  B,  V  and  R and Sloan g, r and i filters. The CCD works by detecting photos landing on each pixel, which go on to excite electrons into the semiconductor band.  Depending on the wavelength of the photon detected on the pixel, this will give a different excitation energy to the electrons and all the pixels together will form an image.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>[<span class="u"> <em> Research Log - Tooru Oikawa - XX-XX-XXXX </em> </span>]</p><p>Observations tonight, starting at 9pm @ Valongo Observatory. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><b>ME</b> : hey, can you meet with tonight, shouyou?<br/>
<b>SUNSHINE</b> : where?<br/>
<b>ME</b> : [location sent]<br/>
<b>ME</b>: at 9:30</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“This is a pretty unusual place to ask me to meet you,” is what comes out of Hinata’s mouth first, looking around him. The air is still warm even this late into the evening, sitting at a comfortable eighteen degrees celsius. It’s slightly colder up here in the hills, surrounded on all sides by trees that make the dark shadows lengthen and the chill cling to the air that bit more.</p><p>Hinata’s dressed slightly warmer than usual, with a light jacket slung over his loose fitting shirt. His messy hair is sticking in all directions, still sweat-soaked from whatever practice he’d been doing.</p><p>Tooru stands up from where he’d been leaning against the cool brick wall, shooting Hinata a friendly smile. “You came.”</p><p>Despite everything, despite the lack of communication and the cold silence between them, Hinata gives Tooru a warm smile in return. “Of course!” he says, ever larger than life. “It wouldn’t have sat right with me to turn you down or ignore you, even if I’m…” He trails off, looking nervous. He fidgets a lot when he’s nervous, Tooru has noticed that now. As if his body needs somewhere to dispel all that anxious energy.</p><p>Instead of speaking, he opens the door beside him and beckons Hinata in. “Ever been inside an observatory before?” he asks.</p><p>Hinata shakes his head. “I've never been much into space, so I never visited one even back in Japan. And Pedro studies Computer Science, so he’s never been up here.”</p><p>It's so easy to fall back into their comfortable dynamic. “Oh? I’ll have to be a good tour guide then, since this is your first visit. Go the extra mile and all.” Even in the dim lighting, he can see the blush that paints Hinata’s cheeks.</p><p>The Valongo Observatory isn’t big, and there isn’t much of interest there to show Hinata on their short journey. They head up just a single flight of stairs and along a corridor, and then Tooru is unlocking and holding the door to the observatory itself open, gesturing for Hinata to head in first with a dramatic flair.</p><p>With wide, curious eyes Hinata bounces inside, letting out awed <em> ooh </em> s and <em> ahh </em>s as Tooru flips the light on, and everything is illuminated.</p><p>The telescope sits right in the centre of the little hut, taking up the majority of the space with its long, hulking form. It’s all grey metal and gold and confusing bunches of brightly coloured wires. Around it, Tooru’s set up the computers and devices all ready to start observing, screens bright and filled with confusing software interfaces.</p><p>“This is so cool,” Hinata crows, peering closely at the telescope. “Hey, hey, Oikawa-san! Can I look through it?”</p><p>“Not much to see at the moment,” Tooru points out. The observatory roof is closed still, and the telescope misaligned with the opening. Hinata looks embarrassed, but that quickly fades when he sees something else to catch his attention, cooing over it. </p><p>There are posters all around the walls of the observatory, ones that Tooru’s never bothered to read since his Portuguese is so poor. While Tooru does the final checks and set ups, Hinata peers at them with eager eyes, mumbling to himself as he translates from Portugese back to Japanese. He does an adorable little head-tilt when he can’t understand something, exactly like a bird, and Tooru had never noticed his little habits before but they’re endearing.</p><p>“Are you allowed to be in here all by yourself?” Hinata asks, breaking the silence. He eyes all the expensive equipment, careful not to touch anything. </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Tooru teases, “it’s only several tens of millions of yen worth of equipment.” Hinata pales. “Technically my project partner is supposed to be here with me, but he’s a bit of a flake. There’s a security guard downstairs if something goes seriously wrong, and the professionals are only a phone call away.”</p><p>Hinata still looks slightly green in the face. Tooru reaches out to slide a hand down his arm, feeling him shiver at the light touch. “You’re in good hands with me, Shouyou,” he says. Hinata melts into him.</p><p>With one last few presses of keys, the program is all set up and ready to run, and Tooru gets to his feet. There’s not much room left in the observatory with the telescope dominating everything, especially not for someone as tall as him. He’s forced to press up against Hinata, who is watching everything with equal amounts of awe and terror, hands clasped carefully in front of him.</p><p>There’s a whirring noise followed by a loud clunking, and Tooru pulls Hinata away from the edges of the dome and closer in front of him, practically draping himself over his back. “Careful, Shouyou-kun,” he says, mouth directly next to Hinata’s ear, feeling him shiver. “The dome’s about to start moving. There’s sandpaper on the walls, you wouldn’t want to get hurt.”</p><p>As he speaks, they can see the frame above them start to rotate, moving at a snail's pace. Hinata’s eyes watch it move, and Tooru’s eyes watch him. Finally, it settles into place and the telescope opening slides open. Tooru feels more than hears Hinata gasp beneath him, bright eyes reflecting the night sky that gets revealed to them.</p><p>“Pretty!” Hinata says. Tooru smiles against his neck. <em> You are.  </em></p><p>“The telescope is going to move now,” Tooru says, leaning back. “Come on, we can sit on the floor. Unless you want to get hit in the head by it?”</p><p>“Nope, not at all!” Hinata replies. “That wasn’t in my plan for the future at all.”</p><p>“Oh, but a date at an astronomical observatory was, hm?” </p><p>Hinata meets Tooru’s flirtiness head on. “Who said this was a date?”</p><p>Tooru splutters. “Why isn’t it a date? This is romantic! Anyone would love to be here with me on a date.”</p><p>“You need to actually ask people out for it to be dates, Oikawa Tooru. Not send them a text asking to meet up along with GPS coordinates after you haven’t spoken all week.”</p><p>Face red, Tooru turns away, embarrassment coursing through his veins. “Well. Now you know.”</p><p>Hinata leans his head onto Tooru’s shoulder with a smile and a laugh, casually resting one hand on Tooru’s thigh. “Is that why you asked me out here? On a date?”</p><p>He sounds genuinely curious, and Tooru resists the urge to shrivel up into a ball of dense matter rather than talk about his feelings. Above them, the telescope has finished spinning and is now whirring and buzzing as it adjusts itself. “Something like that,” Tooru admits. “This is… this is me trying to be more myself.”</p><p>Hinata’s head shifts on his shoulder, fluffy hair tickling against Tooru’s neck as he strains to look up at his face. “Hm?”</p><p>“You said you feel like you don’t know me, that I don’t talk about myself. This is me trying, because I like you, and I want to try. I figured better here than out at the beach.” He sighs, rolling his neck. “I can’t believe I’m spilling my guts to you of all people at ten pm on a Friday night, in an <em> observatory </em> in Brazil. Iwa-chan’s hardly going to believe me.”</p><p>“Don’t be an asshole and try and dodge the conversation,” Hinata says, already knowing him too well. “Carry on.”</p><p>“‘<em> Don’t be an asshole’ </em>,” Tooru huffs. “That’s a lot easier said than done. I don’t know how to talk about this sort of thing. I don’t think anyone in my life has ever described me as emotionally available. I’m not like you, Shouyou, someone who just says exactly what they’re feeling with no room for confusion.”</p><p>“Then why not try another way? Why don’t you meet me on your level?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>Hinata sits up, tilting his head to one side and giving Tooru that terrifying, birdlike stare once more, and says as if it’s the easiest thing in the world: “If talking about this is so hard, why don’t you talk about it in a way that’s not? When I first met Pedro, we didn’t get along. But then I realised he liked some of the animes I liked, so I used that as a starting point to get to know him. And when I first started volleyball I didn’t really know many of the technical terms, but I could explain through <em> whoosh </em> and <em> bam </em>, you know?” He gestures with his hands as he makes the sound effects, mimicking spiking and receiving. “So, if you find something hard… I can meet you on your level. To make it easier.”</p><p>The way he speaks, it’s as if what he’s saying is obvious and not an earth-shattering revelation for Tooru. <em> So, if you find something hard… I can meet you on your level </em>. Every problem to Hinata - whether on the court or off it - he sees as something he can overcome with sheer energy and force, something he can tackle and resolve and come out of it stronger and better. If he’s too short, then he’ll just jump higher. It’s as simple as that.</p><p>Without a doubt, there really is no one out there like Hinata. “You’re truly one of a kind, Shouyou-kun,” Tooru says with a small laugh. “Do you know what differential rotation is?”</p><p>“Diff… what?”</p><p>“Differential rotation. It’s what happens to fluid objects - like our Sun - when they rotate. Because they’re not solid, it means that different parts of the sphere rotate at different velocities. You might not notice it if you weren’t looking closely enough, but the poles of the sun rotate slower than the equator, and the surface rotates slower than the inside of the star.” Tooru lets out a hum, eyes focused on the pocket of night-sky visible through the telescope slit, stars glittering like diamonds. “In stars like our sun, it can cause shear.”</p><p>“Sorry, Oikawa-san, I think you’ve lost me,” Hinata says, looking confused. “I failed maths <em> and </em>science in school.”</p><p>Tooru licks his lips absent-mindedly. “What I’m getting at is, I think people are a lot like stars. Me especially, though I think we knew that I’m a star already.” Hinata doesn’t let the joke fall flat, despite the serious air, letting out a snort. “I don’t think I’m that good a person, deep down inside, even if people tell me otherwise. I’m selfish, I’m demanding, I’m arrogant and a huge asshole. I’m not… good enough. But I can be. I was, at volleyball, for a while. I thought that made up for how terrible I was deep down inside. ‘<em> It’s okay if I’m an asshole, it’s okay if I’m selfish, as long as I can make up for that by giving my team the best volleyball they can </em>’. Even after I stopped playing volleyball with my team, it’s the same with this. I have to be the best, have to always give my 100%, because if I don’t, then everyone’s going to realise exactly how shitty I am inside. </p><p>“Like I said,” he carries on, barely even caring if Hinata is listening at this point, “it’s like differential rotation. Deep down inside, I don’t think there’s much of me that’s worth knowing, or worth celebrating, so on the surface I have to… have to overcorrect. I have to slow it down a bit, to turn what’s inside into something <em> worth </em> seeing, so that’s what people see - not who I really am. So what if I’m not a genius, I’ll damn well work hard to make things happen anyway, and hope that if I say it enough out loud maybe I’ll actually start to believe it myself. Yeah, I’m still an asshole, that’s not going anywhere. But I’m good at things. I have worth.”</p><p>It feels weird to spill these thoughts out, things that he’d never even said to Iwaizumi, because Iwaizumi had just known. There’s a sense of liberation, in admitting that for all his blustering and posturing, he really doesn’t believe half of what he says. Maybe it’s just him being selfish again, but he knows that Hinata will listen.</p><p>“You have worth whether you’re good at things or not,” Hinata says, interrupting as Tooru pauses to take a breath. “Do you think that everyone just puts up with you because you’re a good setter and a smart student, and not because they like you?”</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“Because that’s not true.” Hinata’s eyes are blazing gold, determined. “You’re worried that if anyone looks past the surface of who you are - if anyone took the time to really get to know you - they wouldn’t like you anymore? That stripping away the facade of over-achievements and talent would reveal the ugly hidden inside? For someone so smart, you’re really stupid.”</p><p>Tooru gapes. “I just poured out my heart to you, and you’re calling me stupid? Ouch, chibi-chan. That hurts.”</p><p>There’s a shuffling noise, and then Tooru lets out an <em> oof </em> as Hinata’s heavy weight settles across his thighs, and two small hands come up to grip either side of his face. “You listen to me, Oikawa Tooru,” Hinata says. “You’re amazing, and you’re wonderful, and I think it’s a shame that you don’t see yourself the way that I - and everyone else! - do.”</p><p>“Please don’t yell,” Tooru gets out between squished lips. “We don’t want the security guard to come in and find us like this.” As always, humour is his last resort against openly baring his emotions for all to see, but Hinata Shouyou is a storm he can’t weather and he’s helpless against him.</p><p>“You’re an amazing student, a brilliant astronomer, and the coolest setter I’ve ever seen - but don’t tell Kageyama that! Yes, you’re an asshole sometimes, especially when you’re sending Kageyama jealous texts from my phone, or squabbling with a little kid because they took the last ice cream you wanted. Yes, you’re selfish, and overly confident. But you’re so <em> good </em>, too, and everyone around you knows it. Including me. Honestly, I don’t think a single person has ever fallen for that overconfident facade of yours. Except maybe Kageyama, but he’s…”</p><p>Tooru doesn’t quite know what to do, faced with someone who has seen him all the way through, knows the worst qualities of himself, and still thinks him worth something. Perhaps Hinata is right, and those that he calls his friends do (despite everything they joke otherwise) genuinely think he isn’t a completely abhorrent human being. But they’ve never said it to his face, never looked at him the way Hinata does - seeing all the bad parts of him and still staring with that awed, amazed look on his face. He’s sort of glad for that, in a way, because being perceived makes him so profoundly uncomfortable and he couldn’t stand it if everyone saw through him so clearly.</p><p>How does one even respond to someone seeing him for who he really is and still thinking that he’s phenomenal?</p><p>Hinata seems to realise he’s still gripping Tooru’s face tightly, and lets his hands drop with an embarrassed giggle. “Sorry about that. I got a bit… carried away. It just frustrates me that you don’t realise how worthy you are, and how everyone else around you seems to know it but you.”</p><p>Slowly, Tooru moves to rest his hands on Hinata’s thick thighs. “I’ve just… never heard anyone say it before.”</p><p>“Well, you’d better get used to it,” Hinata says. “I see you, Oikawa Tooru, and I like you for who you are. I’ll make sure to remind you every day. Remind you how wonderful you are.”</p><p>Tooru leads closer, and Hinata does too without realising, both of them drawing together until their breaths are mingling. From here, Tooru can see the light dusting of freckles on Hinata’s cheeks, the faint peeling of skin from week-old sunburn along his forehead and cheekbones. “Even if I’m an asshole?” he asks.</p><p>Hinata nods emphatically. “Even then.”</p><p>“Even if I’m smug and petty and jealous?”</p><p>Hinata pretends to consider it a moment longer, humming slightly. “Even then!”</p><p>“Even… when I don’t quite believe it myself?”</p><p>“I’ll just keep repeating it until you do!”</p><p>“I don’t think I’d mind that too much, if it’s you, Shouyou,” is the last thing Tooru says before his lips are meeting Hinata’s. Instinctively, Hinata’s hands come to rest on his shoulders and neck, pulling Tooru closer. With the heavy weight in his lap and the warm, wet press of lips against his own, everything else fades away until it’s all <em> Hinata Hinata Hinata. </em></p><p>One of Hinata’s hands slides up to the back of Tooru’s neck, fingers combing through the silky strands of hair there, carefully guiding Tooru’s head towards his neck. He makes little whining sounds when Tooru presses kisses along his jaw, and little whimpers when Tooru sucks a mark right into the juncture of his neck. It’s all Tooru can do to keep his hands to himself, to stop them sliding up Hinata’s thighs and under his shirt.</p><p>Hinata gasps out his name, and Tooru’s resolve nearly crumbles. “God, Shouyou,” he mumbles, mouth seeking out Hinata’s once more, “you’re so hot.”</p><p>“Have you seen yourself, Oikawa-san?” The rest of Hinata’s compliment gets muffled by Tooru’s insistent lips. One of Hinata’s hands tugs on Tooru’s hair, and it sends a stab of heat through him.</p><p>“We should stop,” Tooru manages to get out between sloppy, open-mouthed kisses some while later. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, can’t think about anything other than the hot press of Hinata’s body against his and the feeling of Hinata’s soft, firm flesh under his hand (he’d caved, giving into desire and sliding a hand round to cup Hinata’s ass like he’s been wanting to do since he first saw him playing beach volleyball that day). “I’ll never forgive myself if our first time is in the fucking Valongo Observatory. Seriously, I’m a classy guy. I wouldn’t live that down.”</p><p>Hinata draws back with reluctance, but his hands stay touching Tooru, and the casual intimacy is welcome. Red-faced and looking thoroughly ruined, Hinata catches Tooru’s gaze and states back with bright eyes and a broad smile stretching kiss-swollen lips. “But I want to kiss you some more,” he says, blunt as ever.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry,” Tooru says, making a show of checking his watch, a smile slowly growing on his lips. He’s sure he looks just as debauched as Hinata does, a far cry from his usual perfect appearance. “I’m doing observations here until midnight, and it’s only half ten. Believe me when I say we’ll have plenty of time for that.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Hinata meets him in the middle once again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hehe here's chapter two!! there's minimal plot just cute domestic oihina but~~ enjoy~~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You seem in an unusually good mood today, you bastard.” Iwaizumi’s voice is crackly, the connection of the call weak, but the undertones of fondness are still there even as he insults Tooru. “Manage to finally find the moon when you look through a telescope, or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want to know why I’m happy, maybe you should ask your mom, Iwa-chan,” Tooru coos down the phone, smirk evident in his voice. “I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you all about-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, jerk!” A few people on the metro give Tooru strange looks as he laughs loudly, one person even shifting in their seat to move further away. “Seriously, though, you’ve been far too cheerful these past few weeks, and you’ve only posted two shitty selfies on your instagram. Not that I’m not enjoying not having to see your ugly mug, but it’s weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” The carriage pulls up to his station, and Tooru gets unsteadily to his feet, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can hold onto the poles for support. “Iwa-chan, you missed seeing my face?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the exact opposite of what I just said, clean out your ears.” Tooru steps off, a wave of fresh, cool air hitting him as soon as his feet hit the platform, away from the stink and press of the subway carriage. The platform around him is busy, people pushing and jostling past him. Iwaizumi’s keen ears pick up on all the noise. “Are you going somewhere? Onto campus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope,” Tooru pops the ‘p’ sound, smile widening on his face as he catches sight of his boyfriend's traffic-sign bright hair through the crowd. Shouyou seems to catch sight of him at the same time, bouncing up and down and waving frantically.  He’s stood by the exit and framed by sunlight, looking like an angel. Tooru’s heart goes all soft and mushy at the sight of him, a dopey grin forming on his face.. “I’m going on a date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a strangled choking sound. “A date?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With my boyfriend,” Tooru confirms, artfully dodging out of the way of a bike.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got a boyfriend? Some poor bastard agreed to date you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch.” Tooru tries to hide the hurt in his voice. Logically, he knows Iwaizumi is only joking, and that he’s happy for him, but that doesn’t hurt the sting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, I get it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m an absolute bastard and I’ve got no idea why Shouyou would still date me knowing that, but guess I must be doing something right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I know you’re just bitter because no girls want to date you, Iwa-chan, but no need to take it out on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s he like?” Iwaizumi asks, unaware of Tooru’s upset. If he were here in person, he’d be able to tell just from the look on Tooru’s face, but over the years the distance between them has grown greater both physically and emotionally, and the line connection is shit. “Wait, is it the same guy from before? What does he look like? Is he good looking? How much did you pay him to date you? What’s his-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru hangs up, just as he reaches Shouyou. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yahoo,” he says, stooping slightly to allow Shouyou to bounce up and press a kiss to his lips. He’ll never get tired of this. “You’re looking in excellent form today, Shouyou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou slips a hand into Tooru’s. “Yes! Practice was good with Heitor today. I think I’m finally getting the hand of setting now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? You’ll have to show me later then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was that you were on the phone with?” Shouyou asks, swinging their arms between them as he leads them through the streets to their destination. “You looked… hm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just Iwa-chan,” Tooru replies breezily. “And I looked what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a bit sad!” Shouyou says. He looks at Tooru. “Were you? Sad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not anymore now that you’re here,” Tooru says, bumping his shoulder against Shouyou’s with a smile that has Shouyou’s grin widening in return. “It’s fine, don’t worry. Just Iwa-chan bein Iwa-chan. I told him about us, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou perks up, imaginary dog ears pricking. “Oh? You did? What did you tell him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That I’m dating the shortest volleyball player alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an indignant squawk, Shouyou puffing himself up like a bird. “I’m not the shortest volleyball player! Farhad Zarif is only 165 centimetres. I’m 172 centimetres, and don’t you forget it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru can’t help the snigger he lets out, covering his mouth with his free hand. “I can’t believe you know who actually is the shortest volleyball player. Ready to pull that information out anytime, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou huffs. “You’re so mean to me, Tooru.” He forgets his momentary annoyance almost immediately, giving Tooru’s hand a squeeze. “Anyway, I hope you told him all about how cool your boyfriend is, and how handsome he is! And how very lucky he is to be the one who gets to date the Great King!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this another nickname you and Tobio-chan came up with?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he was the King of the Court, and you were his upperclassman, which makes you the Great King!” Shouyou blusters, cheeks red. “It makes sense, okay? Besides, you’ve got a very kingly vibe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? What, handsome and regal?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah!” Tooru tries to hide his warm cheeks. “And you’re good at like, everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I’m the Great King, what does that make you, my consort then?” Tooru asks. Shouyou squirms slightly in embarrassment, tips of his ears matching his hair. Tooru stops walking to stare at Shouyou. It takes a moment for Shouyou to realise, carrying forward until Tooru’s hand tugs him to a stop. “Oh, you like that idea?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up! You’re pompous too, like a king. Anyway, we’re supposed to be on a date. You’re not supposed to make fun of people you’re on dates with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru presses a long kiss to Shouyou’s lips, hearing the small noise of surprise he lets out at the motion. His free hand comes up to rest on Shouyou’s bicep (and god, does he love his boyfriends muscles, dating a professional athlete is the best). People around them are undoubtedly giving them looks, but Tooru can’t bring himself to care about anything except the feeling of Shouyou’s mouth against his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With reluctance, they pull apart, and Tooru would be lying if he said he found the thin line of spit connecting their mouths gross rather than hot. “Forgive me?” he asks, voice low and eyes lidded, and Shouyou, still dazed, just nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he shakes his head and he’s back to normal, frowning up at Tooru. “Oi, stop trying to distract me with kisses.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, but it works so well!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re supposed to be on a date,” Shouyou reminds him, tugging him along again. “Now all I can think about is going back home with you and, argh-” His face is bright red, clearly thinking of things that aren’t acceptable to speak in the busy streets of Rio de Janeiro, language barrier or not. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that Tooru can blame him, he wouldn’t want to say half of the things he wants to do to Shouyou out loud. “Where are we going?” he asks instead, coughing lightly to disguise the crack in his voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shouyou isn’t the only one all hot and bothered. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re almost there,” Shouyou says over his shoulder, teeth bared in a blinding smile, dragging Tooru along so they’re practically jogging. “See! There!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The round dome ahead is weathered by time, the colours faded and metal grubby so it’s hard to distinguish between blue and dirty green-grey. Trees line the path ahead of them, having shielded the view from Tooru until now, keeping Shouyou’s destination a surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru’s throat goes dry, staring at the building in front of them. “You brought me to a planetarium?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou nods enthusiastically. “Isn’t it cool? Pedro told me about it when I said I wanted to learn more about space.” When Tooru looks at him in surprise, he elaborates. “I feel bad sometimes that I don’t know much about what you love, even though I really do listen when you tell me about it! And this looks really fun!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Giddy warmth bubbles up inside Tooru. A planetarium. It’s not something he’d know of himself, so he probably went to the effort of asking Pedro if there were any nearby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really something else, Hinata Shouyou,” Tooru mutters, reaching out to pull Shouyou into a quick tight hug. His boyfriend's hair tickles at his chin, and it’s far too hot outside to be hugging like this despite the loose clothing they’re both donning, but Tooru doesn’t care. “Every time I think you can’t surprise me anymore, you do somehow.” Shouyou nuzzles his head into Tooru’s neck, grinning against the sweaty skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, then,” Tooru says eventually, standing back and taking Shouyou’s hand once more. “Let's check it out. Hope you’re ready for me to make fun of all the botched science explanations they give, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the best part!” Shouyou says, unable to contain his excitement as he skips alongside Tooru, and Tooru finds himself walking with an extra spring in his step too. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I guess that’s what being in love does to you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the sunlight streaming in through the open window and onto his face that wakes Tooru. He groans, rolling over in the bed and bringing the sheets over his head in an attempt to block out the brightness. It doesn’t work, and it’s with a deep sigh that he finally blinks his eyes open. Without his glasses and vision still sleep-fuzzy, there’s not much he can see. A plain white wall, with a poster of some volleyball player tacked up onto it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s in Shouyou’s room then. It doesn’t come as a surprise - the curtains at his place are thick and dark, blocking any and all light out, whereas Shouyou likes to open his curtains and windows as soon as he wakes up, claiming it helps him start the day afresh. Slowly throughout the morning, the sun does its slow crawl across the sky, creeping through Shouyou’s window and onto the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a yawn, Tooru sits up, sheets pooling around his waist. The other side of the bed is empty and cold. Shouyou must have been gone a while. Tooru’s glasses are neatly sat on the bedside table, definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> where Tooru remembers leaving them last night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His clothes are still piled up on the floor where he’d left them though, and almost methodically he goes through the motions of picking them up and pulling them on. He gives his shirt a cautious sniff. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll do for now. I really have to start leaving more than just underwear and a toothbrush at Shouyou’s.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou’s roommate is sitting at the kitchen table when Tooru emerges. “Yahoo,” Tooru greets lazily, giving a small wave and a polite smile. He has no idea if Pedro even hears him, with the giant headphones he has covering his ears, but the younger man shoots him an unimpressed look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru’s lips twitch. Whenever Shouyou’s around, Pedro is as talkative as anything, the two of them together leaving Tooru in the dust as they communicate in rapid Portuguese. However, remove Shouyou from the situation, and it’s like trying to communicate with a brick wall. Worse than a brick wall, even. For the sake of his pride, Tooru tells himself Pedro is just shy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Shouyou?” Tooru asks, trying to inject more friendliness into his voice and hoping to get more than just a single scathing look in response this time. He finishes filling a glass of water from the fridge and turns to see Pedro leveling him yet another blank eyed look, finger pointing towards a sheet of paper pinned to the fridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gone 2 get groceries, back soon!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>it reads in Shouyou’s messy scrawl, both in Japanese and Portugese. There’s a time scrawled underneath it as well - 6:45. Tooru’s watch reads just approaching half eight, which means it won’t be too long before Shouyou returns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s used to Shouyou’s lifestyle and schedule by now; used to how he wakes early to go for a run and do yoga on the beach before practice, what hours he works as a delivery boy. He knows Shouyou by the back of his hand, and Shouyou knows him too. Within just a few months of dating, they’ve managed to integrate their lives into each other, working around their busy schedules to find time for each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Tooru calls out to Pedro as he leaves the kitchen, not expecting a response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pedro’s words are muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for Tooru to hear. At first, he’s convinced he misheard, but then he catches sight of himself in the hallway mirror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nice hair.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru must have slept weirdly, or Shouyou fell asleep petting his hair yet again (as he likes to do, because he claims Tooru’s hair is as fluffy as a cat's fur), because his normally perfectly fluffed and arranged hair is a complete birds nest atop his head. There are strands sticking up, knotted clumps hanging awkwardly down the side of his face. He looks like someone tried to shear him like a sheep and only got halfway through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru freezes, one hand coming up to instinctively pet the strands and confirm that yes, he does look like that, and yes, he did walk out in front of his boyfriend’s roommate looking like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if the ground swallowed him right now, or the Andromeda Galaxy sped up it’s collision with the Milky Way and began smashing their galaxy to pieces right about now. Or a black hole sucked him in, the strength of the gravitational pull ripping his body apart before he even gets close enough to it to-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On returning home, Shouyou finds his boyfriend curled up under the bedsheets, blankets pulled tight over his head. “I can never leave the house again,” he moans dramatically. “I’m too embarrassed. I’m too ashamed. Say, Shouyou, would you still love me if I were bald?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He finds Tooru sat on the beachfront at their usual spot to play beach volleyball in the evenings, feet buried in cool sand and his head hung between his knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There you are!” he says, out of breath and panting. Out of the corner of his eye, Tooru sees him bend over, hands on his thighs as he tries to catch his breath back. “I finally found you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru doesn’t say anything, only sinks his head further between his knees. There’s a shuffling noise as Shouyou settles down beside him, making sure his side is gently pressed against Tooru’s so he can feel his warmth, but without crowding him. “I got worried when you didn’t pick up my calls,” he says, because Shouyou prefers calling over texting and always notices when Tooru doesn’t pick up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s no hiding anything from him, not with those bird eyes of his.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, just sits beside Tooru staring out at the ocean, watching as the dark waves crash and churn, as dark silhouettes of people meander their way across the sand. After a while, his hand gently settles in Tooru’s hair - slowly, so slowly, as if Tooru is a wild animal he’s afraid to startle - and then those nimble fingers start working themselves through the knots and curls, smoothing them out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fingers stroke along the nape of his neck, and Tooru lets out a long breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallows, says: “I had a meeting with my professor.” Shouyou hums, inviting Tooru to continue, and doesn’t stop stroking through his hair. “My dissertation… it’s not very good, to put it lightly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re upset?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Well, yes. Mostly I’m just… angry. Disappointed, too.” Tooru watches how his fists clench and unclench, the muscles in his arms tensing and then relaxing. He’s had most of the day to sit and stew in his emotions, and he’d spent plenty of time earlier taking his frustration out on a volleyball without Shouyou to see and judge him. He’d smashed a hundred or more consecutive balls at a wall near his apartment, until all the furious rage was gone and all that remained was simmering anger and exhaustion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s natural, I think,” Shouyou says. “To feel angry and disappointed, especially when you’ve set so many expectations for yourself to be the best. You’re allowed to be angry, and upset, and disappointed in yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But that doesn’t-” Tooru cuts himself off, voice raising too much in annoyance that he doesn’t want to ever level at Shouyou, sweet Shouyou with his understanding and his quiet comfort when he knows that’s what Tooru needs. “But that doesn’t change anything. There’s time to feel angry and disappointed after it’s done and finished, not now. I’m still… not good enough. I need to be better, to do better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you will.” Shouyou’s confident assurance has Tooru raising his head slightly. “You’re Oikawa Tooru. You might not think you’re a genius, but you’re a hard worker. Whatever you want to do, whatever you want to achieve, I know you’ll get there eventually. And I’ll be right beside you supporting you, okay?” He shoots Tooru a smile, all warmth and brightness and sincere love. “Don’t be selfish, Tooru, alright? You don’t need to do everything all by yourself the whole time. Let me carry some things for you. ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t cover the whole court by yourself’</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru huffs out a small laugh, sitting up and leaning back on his hands, head thrown back so he can see the entire sky spread out in front of him. It’s a cloudless night. At first glance, the sky seems dark and lightless, pure black stretching out as far as he can see, but the closer he looks the more stars he sees, faint at first but then glittering so bright he can’t ignore them anymore. Pinpricks of light in the dark, burning balls of gas and light scattered throughout the emptiness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stars may be hundreds of thousands of parsecs away, but with Shouyou next to him Tooru thinks they’re a lot closer than they seem.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” he says. Shouyou leans into his side, tucking under his arm and against his neck, a familiar form.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And don’t ignore my calls next time,” Shouyou adds. “I was so worried I ran everywhere looking for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The laugh Tooru lets out this time is slightly more real. “Okay. Next time I get in a weird slump like this, I’ll talk to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Shouyou preens like a bird, and then shivers as a breeze blows over them. Tooru takes note of how he’s dressed for the first time, still in the sleeveless shirt and loose shorts he wears for practice during the day. The weather is still warm, but it must be getting chilly for Shouyou dressed like that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru unzips the front of his jacket and beckons Shouyou in. With a little jostling and only one elbow to the groin (Tooru doesn’t think he’ll be able to have children anymore), Shouyou settles down with his back to Tooru’s chest, jacket wrapped securely around the both of them like a cocoon. He fits perfectly in his arms and against him, like their bodies were made for each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m an ass sometimes,” Tooru says quietly, arms wrapping tight around Shouyou as his boyfriend leans back against him for support. “I was being a selfish prick, making you worry about me like that and not telling you what happened. Iwa-chan always used to tell me off when I got in slumps like this before, but he was always good at pulling me out of them. Knew exactly what to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou lets out a small hum. “Well, how did Iwaizumi-san help you get out of these slumps then? Maybe I can try too. In future, y’know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He headbutted me,” Tooru says dryly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou nods, eyes determined. “I can do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No! My face is a national treasure, I don’t want it ruined. One person headbutting me is more than enough just…” Tooru waves a hand vaguely. “Be your normal self. Pure sunshine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can do that!” Tooru chuckles, resting his head down on Shouyou’s shoulder. When they’re sat like this, he’s reminded of exactly how small his boyfriend is. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pocket-sized sunshine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>My own bit of the sun to keep with me always.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou tilts his head to catch Tooru’s mouth in a kiss, hand coming up to stroke Tooru’s cheek softly. Tooru watches the way his eyelids flutter closed as he chases after Tooru’s lips, takes in the gentle smattering of freckles along his cheekbones and nose, the sunburn just starting to peel on the tip of his nose. How he smells strongly of that one sunscreen brand he uses, how his lips are almost feather-soft under Tooru’s own, never chapped even after months out in the sun on the beach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His nose bumps against Tooru’s, eyes opening to meet Tooru’s own. “Wanna go make a sand-man?” Shouyou whispers. Tooru blinks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not? There’s no better time than now!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both end up posing next to their sand monstrosity later, squatting next to it with proud smiles as if it’s their own child. Knees and hands sandy, bits of grit under his normally-impeccable nails, Tooru feels light as he stares at the photo from the comfort of his own bed later that evening, smiling at the emojis Shouyou had used in the caption of the photo posted on instagram.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t feel like quite as much pressure to be the best, to always be on top, when he knows there’s someone waiting down there to catch him if he falls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-and then Heitor swooped in for the final kill, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoosh</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” Shouyou gestures broadly with his arms as he demonstrates, bringing a small smile to Tooru’s face as he steps into the bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, chibi-chan, what did you do with my shirt? You know which one, the-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words trail off as Shouyou turns around, sheepish smile on his face. Tooru’s shirt drapes off his body, far too big for him. It reaches almost halfway down his thighs - those bare, exposed thighs, a wide expanse of tanned skin stark against the white fabric of the shirt-, and Tooru’s throat goes dry. He’d never considered himself someone who had a thing for size differences in relationships before, or even someone particularly attached to his significant other wearing his clothes, but turns out he was wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoops, sorry!” Shouyou says, running a hand through his messy head of hair. “I forgot I was Skyping my friends today, so I needed to put some clothes on quickly and your shirt was the closest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that Oikawa-san?” A familiar voice that can only belong to Kageyama floats from Shouyou’s laptop, camera thankfully turned away so none of them can see Tooru in all his glory - shirtless, loose shorts slung around his waist and hair still wet from the shower, thin trails of water meandering their way down his neck and torso. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it is!” Shouyou says excitedly. “Hey, come introduce yourself! I want to show off my super cool boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru lets an indulgent smile curl onto his face as he pulls a spare shirt of his from Shouyou’s wardrobe, tugging it over his head and then moving to settle next to Shouyou cross-legged on the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There are four faces staring back at him, with varying degrees of friendliness. Blonde glasses guy looks as if Tooru is the gum beneath his shoe, whereas green hair and freckles guy looks as if he’s at least making an effort to pretend to like him. The sole girl there has a sweet face and a friendly smile on her lips. Meanwhile, Kageyama looks torn between disgust and being happy for Shouyou.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” Tooru says, giving his best winning smile. Glasses guy looks sickened. “Tobio-chan, long time no see. How’s the volleyball going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t watch his matches?” Glasses guy asks, sneering slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope,” Tooru lies, averting his eyes. “Not a single one. Never catch them.” Shouyou elbows him in the side, shooting him a look of fond exasperation. Toory just raises his eyebrows in return. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know quite what you expect from me, but there’s no way I’m admitting that to Tobio!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not true. We watch them together sometimes,” Shouyou admits. “Tooru likes to heckle the TV.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not,” Tooru whines in return, pinching Shouyou’s exposed thigh lightly.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Traitor. Selling me out to Tobio. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I only heckle when Tobio-chan’s serving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru can see how Kageyama’s face goes red through the screen, obviously holding himself back from yelling. It brings a small smirk to his lips, a petty victory that he knows Shouyou will call him out on later. He’d already banned Tooru from sending Kageyama videos of himself setting balls for him, so he’s been forced to find his entertainment elsewhere (posting disgustingly sweet couple pictures on instagram).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to see you serve better, Oikawa-san,” Kageyama finally gets out, and it’s Tooru’s turn to go red. Beside him, Shouyou desperately tries to hold in his giggles. The blonde haired girl is laughing so hard she falls out of the frame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru zones out a bit as Shouyou keeps talking away to his friends. He’s used to Shouyou’s volume enough by now that it all fades into background noise, and he takes the time to reply to some very late messages from old school acquaintances and coursemates desperately asking for assistance in redoing data sets or using the lab software for image analysis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some of his old school friends want to organise meeting up sometime later this year, talking about it excitedly in their group chat, and Tooru’s fingers hover over the keyboard as he watches them make plans. </span>
  <em>
    <span>In a few months time, I’ll be back,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he realises. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Back in Japan.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s brought back to attention by the sound of his own name. “... so, since Tooru hands in his disser-something-what next month, and I’ll be finishing up the beach volleyball season in time for V League tryouts in February, we thought we should try and do all the touristy stuff before we leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” the blonde girl - Yachi maybe? - says. “I saw some of the photos you sent in the group chat. I liked the one of you by Christ the Redeemer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was super cool up there!” Shouyou enthuses. “We went to the botanical gardens too, that was amazing. Oh, oh, and Escadaria Selarón! That’s the really colourful steps, I loved that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You almost tripped and fell down them about five times,” Tooru chimes in. “They should put a warning about children needing parental supervision.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou rushes to cover Tooru’s mouth with his hands. “No, I did not,” he says, limbs flailing. “You wanna fight? I’m going to kill you. I’ll strangle you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think your hands can even fit around my neck, Shouyou,” Tooru retorts with a smirk, enjoying the way Shouyou gets even more riled up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Disgusting,” a voice from the computer says. “They’re sappy even when they’re threatening death on each other.” Despite the harsh words however, the four faces that stare out from the screen seem fond, even if Kageyama looks like he’d rather pull out his own teeth than ever admit that to either Shouyou or Tooru.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou seems to remember his friends are still watching them from the other end of the call, and reluctantly removes his hands from Tooru’s mouth. The fierce look he gives Tooru suggests he’s getting it later though, and a shiver of excitement makes its way down Tooru’s spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi,” someone says again. Probably glasses guy. “Stop being gay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With an indignant yelp, Shouyou wriggles to seat himself in front of the laptop again, face peering in close to the camera. “Tsukkishima, you of all people can’t tell me that! The amount I’ve had to hear from Yamaguchi about all your dates, this is just payback!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, now, Hinata, that’s different-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s exactly as sickening, especially when I have to stare at Tsukkishima’s ugly smiling face in the group chat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kageyama-kun!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru’s in the middle of writing his final dissertation (or more like, staring at his final dissertation and hoping it writes itself) when a head of bright ginger hair appears in his vision. “What’s this?” Shouyou asks, mouth full of banana, already making himself comfortable between Tooru’s legs and on his lap. Tooru instinctively adjusts his arms, wrapping them around Shouyou’s waist and under his arms, giving his boyfriend a quick squeeze before he moves back to typing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dissertation editing,” Tooru says. Shouyou makes an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ooh</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound, peering intently at the screen. His hair is slightly damp, and he smells like apple-scented body wash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You write so fast in English now,” he says, only pouting slightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru smirks. “That’s because I actually study and don’t spend all day falling on my face in the sand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tooru!” Shouyou sinks further into his lap, wriggling closer to Tooru’s body and pulling the soft blanket tight over both of them. “You’re so mean sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Going to take a nap, now? It’s important for little kids to get enough sleep so they can grow big and strong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou squawks, wiggling in Tooru’s arms. “Tooru! I’m not a middle schooler!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you were still taking naps in middle school?” Tooru rests his chin atop Shouyou’s head, using him as a chinrest as he continues typing. His fluffy hair tickles Tooru’s nose, and he tries not to sneeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna break up with you,” Shouyou mutters under his breath, sulking, although he doesn’t make any move to shake Tooru off. “Then I’m gonna date someone who isn’t mean to me, and who isn’t gonna make fun of me for being short and use me as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>headrest</span>
  </em>
  <span> every time we go anywhere. Like Iwaizumi-san.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Iwa-chan?” Tooru stops typing immediately, giving Shouyou a horrified look. “You’d leave me for Iwa-chan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou hums, eyes mischievous, and Tooru falls more and more in love. “I mean, why not? He’s nice to me, and he’s clearly the more handsome of the two of you. Plus, those muscles!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take that back! I’m the better looking one! Besides, he’s mean. He’s mean and he’s terrible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abandoning any pretense of actually working, Tooru’s fingers find their way to Shouyou’s sides, tickling mercilessly as his boyfriend screams, flailing wildly. “No!” Shouyou screeches. “I’m not taking it back!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a liar! Naughty little liar!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the truth!” Shouyou sticks his tongue out, and Tooru smushes a cushion into his face. “Oi!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou manages to escape Tooru’s tickles and retreats to the other side of the sofa, hair mussed up and messy. There’s a bright smile on his face, infectious happiness causing the edges of Tooru’s lips to curve up into a smile that soon splits his face in half. His laptop still sits open on the cushions next to him, so he shuts it and places it carefully away. Somehow ‘my boyfriend broke my laptop during a tickle fight’ doesn’t seem like a valid excuse for not completing his dissertation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re really going to do this right now?” Shouyou asks. He’s panting slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Tooru huffs. “I have to defend my honour, and I know exactly what your weakness is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou’s smile morphs into something more predatory, and he gets the same look in his eye that he does when he’s jumping to spike a ball. That terrifying look of concentration and single-minded focus. “Yeah? But I know what your weakness is too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tooru freezes, and then frantically tries to scramble away as Shouyou crawls across the sofa cushions to him. “No, no!” he says, feet getting tangled into the blanket and sending him crashing to the floor. A heavy weight settles on his back. “Shouyou, no!” Gentle, nimble fingers pluck the glasses from his face, setting them aside safely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Great Demon King is slain! You underestimated my might, Oikawa-san,” Shouyou proclaims. “What do you have to say for yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pouting, Tooru twists his head to one side to glare at Shouyou, nothing more than an orange blur without his glasses on. “I did nothing wrong,” he whines. “You said Iwa-chan was better-looking than me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t say that,” Shouyou says. “Just that he was more handsome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the same thing!” His cries go unheard underneath Shouyou’s laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou leans in close, still sitting on Tooru’s waist so that his front is pressed right up against Tooru’s back, reminiscent of the way they sleep sometimes. It’s comfortable, and in another situation that didn’t involve his boyfriend saying he would leave him, Tooru might actually enjoy being pinned down and cuddled by Shouyou like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He presses a kiss to Tooru’s cheek, and then to the corner of his pouting lips. “Don’t worry, Tooru,” he says gently, finger poking at Tooru’s shoulder blades. “I’m only joking. My boyfriend is the most handsome person ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad you know it,” Tooru grumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...That doesn’t mean you’re exempt from your punishment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh, no! Not the hair!” Shouyou’s hand plunges into Tooru’s hair, vigorously rubbing to mess it. Using both hands, he rubs it and messes with it, eventually moulding it into something that Tooru’s certain is two clumps. Tooru whines beneath him, but it’s half-heartedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Playing around with Shouyou like this is fun, not that he’d ever want to admit it to anyone else (he has a reputation to uphold after all). There’s something about Shouyou’s excitable competitiveness that gets Tooru fired up in a good way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smile for Iwaizumi-san!” Shouyou declares, holding his phone up in front of both of their faces to snap a selfie, and Tooru feels dread seep into his bones. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing Tooru sees before the shutter sounds is his own horrified face, two cat ears sculpted out of hair atop his head, and Shouyou’s beaming face, radiant and gorgeous as ever, above his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Shouyou, no, don’t send that-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Iwaizumi leaves four voicemails of purely him laughing his head off on Tooru’s phone, and then posts the picture on his instagram and refuses to take it down despite Tooru’s many threats. It’s terrible, and he doesn’t kiss Shouyou for two whole days.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(It was supposed to be a week, but Tooru wasn’t strong enough to last more than two days without kisses.)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Perhaps he doesn’t hate the photo as much as he says he does, when he sees it set as the lockscreen on Shouyou’s phone. And just </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Shouyou picks up Tooru’s phone a few days later, the photo is set as his own lockscreen. But who knows?)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>ME</b>
  <span>: [photo of oikawa fast asleep in bed, glasses askew and laptop still open on his lap]<br/></span>
  <b>ME</b>
  <span>: a mimir<br/></span>
  <b>IWA CHAN:</b>
  <span> is that u hinata<br/></span>
  <b>ME</b>
  <span>: [photo of hinata lying beside oikawa, pretending to be asleep, except he has one eye cracked open]<br/></span>
  <b>ME</b>
  <span>: two mimir<br/></span>
  <b>IWA CHAN:</b>
  <span> perfect blackmail material thank you<br/></span>
  <b>ME</b>
  <span>: ur welcome iwaizumi-san :3c</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It must be the fifth or sixth time that Shouyou completely zones out, staring off into the distance with unseeing eyes, that Tooru decides to bring it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re in the middle of a playful game of football on the beach, Tooru insisting that they take a break from volleyball for the day after Shouyou had won his matches with his partner Heitor earlier. He’s been busy recently, with matches most days, and between his part-time job, beach volleyball practice and all the other training he’s been doing in preparation to gear up for his return to Japan. Not to mention Heitor’s wedding that they’d gone to a few weeks ago, and all the time he’s been spending with Pedro before he leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On second thoughts, perhaps Shouyou is just tired. They’ve both been working to the bone recently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it doesn’t sit right with Tooru.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou is conscientious and meticulous, especially when it comes to his health and volleyball. He sleeps eight hours almost every night, and Tooru’s never seen someone as cautious about health and nutrients (except maybe for Iwaizumi, but he’s the exception because he’s a huge worrywart). If Shouyou was just tired, he’d take a break. He’d look after himself, because he knows that health comes first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, he’s not tired.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there’s clearly something wrong, something that’s been bugging him enough to have him missing a receive he normally could have easily got, to have him not reacting to Tooru’s easy needles and jokes, to have him barely replying to the cute dog pictures Tooru texts him every other day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like you,” Tooru says, voice pitched low, “to not be paying attention.” Shouyou freezes, face morphing from that distant stare into one of trepidation as he recognises the undercurrent in Tooru’s voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, it’s nothing!” he tries to insist, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand and shooting Tooru his best and brightest smile. “I guess I’m just more tired than I thought today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shouyou.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a terrible liar.” It’s true. Tooru doesn’t think Shouyou could lie about something convincingly even if his life depended on it. He’s all bare-faced honesty and open declarations of trust and love and genuine support. Lying is the antithesis of who Shouyou is, so it makes sense that he’s so atrocious badly at it, squirming and averting his eyes nervously as he tries to act as normal as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No I’m not!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are, but I love you anyway,” Tooru says. “Seriously, chibi-chan, what’s wrong? There must be something seriously wrong if you’ve not been putting your full attention on the ball when you play. I’m surprised Lucio-san hasn’t called you out on it yet. What’s on your mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou tugs at the sleeves of his shirt, looking nervous and small, and Tooru just wants to sweep him up in his arms and reassure him that everything will be okay, that no matter what’s on his mind Tooru will be there to help. Bold and charismatic and unrelenting, Shouyou has always been a bright star in Tooru’s night sky, and it feels wrong and </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see him looking so lost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When we had our first date,” Shouyou starts, “at the observatory. You told me about that thing…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Differential rotation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that! You were talking about how different parts move at different speeds, like some bits are fast and some are slow.” Shouyou pauses, shooting Tooru a quick look to check that he’s saying the correct things, and Tooru hums in acknowledgement. “I feel like being together here in Brazil, it’s like we’re both at the equator.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yes, Brazil is on the equator.” Perhaps it makes him a shitty person when his boyfriend’s trying to have a heartfelt conversation, but the opportunity was too good to miss. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry, Shouyou.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, Shitty Oikawa!” Tooru rubs at his arm where Shouyou had gently hit him, pouting like a baby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really need you to stop talking to Iwa-chan. He’s a bad influence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I was saying,” Shouyou absentmindedly bends down to pick up the football, brushing the sand off it as he turns it in his palms. “Us being here, at the equator, we’re both moving at the same speed. But once we go back to Japan…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It won’t be the same.” Tooru finishes the sentence for him gently. He knows, he’s worried about it himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou nods. “Right. I’m worried that when we both go back to Japan - you to whatever it is you want to do, and me to V League tryouts - that everything’s going to be different. We won’t be moving at the same speed anymore. It’ll be like you’re at the pole, and I’m at the equator, and I don’t want there to be that friction between us that causes problems because suddenly we aren’t moving at the same pace anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, this is what you’ve been worrying about the last week or so, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Shouyou admits. “I know it’s not like me, to stew on this in silence without talking about it to someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right, it’s not.” Taking the ball from Shouyou’s hands, Tooru tosses it up and down in his hand. “You’re normally the one barrelling full speed ahead without a care in the world, jumping for a toss you don’t even know is going to come your way or not. I’m the one who takes it a bit slower, thinking things through and always several steps ahead, wouldn’t you agree?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou’s brow creases. “Yes?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re already going at our own paces,” Tooru points out, and he can see the moment Shouyou realises the truth behind his words. “We aren’t on the same path in life. We’ve got different aspirations, different goals, different motivations. That hasn’t stopped us yet, and it’s not going to be different back in Japan. Stars are fluid objects, they’re not solids. You’re always going to have that shear, that differential rotation. The only way to escape it would be to stop rotating altogether, but neither of us want that, do we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, we don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you know that stars don’t stay spinning at the same constant rate their whole lives? They start off spinning up, accruing angular momentum in their Pre Main Sequence. Then when they reach the longest part of their lives - the Main Sequence - that’s when they start to spin down. Some of them spin down faster, some of them slower. It all depends on their situation. No star is the same. I think the same can be said of people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I get it,” Shouyou says. He steps closer, knocking the ball out of Tooru’s hands and onto the sand. “See? I’m getting good at this space stuff now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think being good at volleyball is what you should be focusing on.” Tooru tries to steal the ball, but Shouyou artfully dribbles it away. “Unless you want Tobio-chan to beat you to a pulp once you get back to Japan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to be the one beating Kageyama! I’m going to be the best player in Division 1, just you watch, Tooru!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure to watch all of your matches from the safety of the ISS when I’m a Nobel Prize winning physicist and astronaut.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou stomps a foot petulantly, and Tooru takes the opportunity to kick the ball out from between his feet, relishing in Shouyou’s frustrated growl.. “Stop trying to one-up me all the time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope, never! You knew what you signed up for when you agreed to date me.” Shouyou’s foot hooks around Tooru’s, and they both go falling into the sand. The sand doesn’t make for as soft a landing as Tooru had hoped, especially not with Shouyou’s weight bearing down on him from above.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shouyou places a hand on Tooru’s chest to support himself, sitting up so he’s staring directly down at Tooru’s surprised face. There’s a look of wonder in his eyes, a look of amazement that says he just can’t believe that he’s here, now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I did,” he says with a smile that is as bright as it is fond.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i hope u enjoyed reading this!!! it was very very self indulgent lmao but i had fun writing it so i hope u got something out of it too! also most of the space facts etc were completely ripped off from my own studies haha i hope my professors never find out! the final scene in this wasn't actually intended to be the final scene, but i felt it fit better like that (ill post the extra scene on my twitter sometime just for some extra fluff n closure aha!)</p>
<p>if u did like it, pls do leave a comment and a kudos! they rlly make my day, even if its just a simple comment saying u liked it!!! :3</p>
<p>im on twitter @catboyeijun if u feel like yelling with me about oihina and brazil hinata and daiya no ace !</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>part 1 is over!!! honestly there isn't much of a plot to the rest of this fic, it's just me enjoying domestic oihina in brazil and projecting on oikawa tooru and the experience of being Perceived in order 2 be loved, but i'll be posting it in a week!</p><p>im on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/catboyeijun">@catboyeijun</a> ur welcome to come yell at me about brazil hinata or whatever else takes ur fancy! i also having a schedule of fics im planning on posting next and when linked on my twitter, so if bokuaka/atsuhina/kenhina are ur thing... maybe check it out :')</p><p>i hope you enjoyed reading this!! oihina have a special place in my heart, and i hope they do in urs as well! if you liked it, pls do consider dropping a comment to let me know bc</p></blockquote></div></div>
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